Scenes from Two Lives Becoming One
by digitalfletch
Summary: An occasional series, focusing on the developing relationship between Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher. Early chapters will present missing scenes from episodes throughout the show, while later chapters will feature events in an established relationship. P/C all the way!
1. Coming of Age

Author's Note: Although this isn't really a P/C scene, when I saw this episode I was struck by the abrupt cut at the end, as though there had been additional dialogue filmed and then edited out. So I've added some, hoping to shed some light on Beverly's feelings about Jean-Luc early on in the series.

* * *

"Everything said here is confidential, Doctor," Commander Remmick informed her with gratingly fake sincerity as they sat opposite each other in the briefing room. "You can be completely open with me."

"About what?"

"About how you feel serving with the man who is responsible for the death of your husband."

Dr. Beverly Crusher stared at Remmick for a long moment, speechless. If it hadn't been for the Captain's direct order to cooperate, she wouldn't still be sitting here listening to this man's wholly inappropriate questions. She blew out a breath and tried to swallow her ire. It took her a few seconds to formulate a response that wouldn't get her sent to the brig. "My personal feelings about Captain Picard are irrelevant to this investigation, and none of your business," she finally replied, as slowly and evenly as she could.

Remmick subjected her to a hard stare, and then looked down at his padd, clearing preparing to change tack. "It has come to our attention that there are significant discrepancies in the Captain's log reports."

"Captain Picard's? That's impossible." Beverly had to smother the laugh she felt bubbling up within her. _Just when I thought this conversation couldn't get any more absurd._ "You'd no more find a discrepancy in the Captain's logs than you'd find –" she searched for a comparable analogy, "an impurity in the warp core alloy."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You seem awfully certain about that, Doctor."

Once more she felt her anger rising. _Full cooperation_, she reminded herself sternly. She forced herself to adopt a mild tone. "As I said before, Commander, I've known the Captain a long time."

"Then how do you explain our discoveries?"

She shrugged. _That's your job, not mine_. "Apparently your discoveries are wrong."

He frowned severely. "I assure you, Doctor, that they are not. Yet another explanation does come to mind. If the Captain didn't submit the faulty log reports, then perhaps someone here on the ship did it for him."

Beverly considered. It was very unlikely – she knew there were many levels of security that protected the official communications of the senior staff. But it wasn't impossible. Someone with a highly advanced set of computer skills could probably manage to hack in and alter the logs. Yet she couldn't image anyone on the _Enterprise_ would ever do such a thing. "It's possible. But –"

"You yourself have access to the Captain's ready room, do you not?" he cut across her words.

She nodded, reluctantly, beginning to suspect where his train of thought was headed. "Yes. But only in emergency situations."

"And your son, Wesley Crusher, has an unusually high degree of technical skills for a young man his age."

"I don't like what you're insinuating, Commander," she said as calmly as she could, trying to force down the rage that was now burning through her. The thought that she might sabotage Jean-Luc like that was outrageous.

"I'm not insinuating anything," he said with a look of innocence that didn't fool her for an instant. "However, given the circumstances of your husband's death under Captain Picard's command, it would only be natural for you to want to see the Captain suffer a similar injustice."

Beverly's fists clenched spasmodically. _Full cooperation, full cooperation,_ she repeated to herself like a mantra. "Commander Remmick, I requested this assignment on the _Enterprise_." _And that's in the Starfleet record_, she thought sardonically. "If I blamed the Captain in any way for my husband's death, I never would have done so," she finished in an icy tone.

She rose to her feet before he could frame a response. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have patients to see. Excuse me." She turned her back on the table and walked towards the door, hoping he wouldn't call her back.

Fortunately for him, he didn't.

#


	2. The Arsenal of Freedom

Author's Note: The first six lines of dialogue herein were written by Richard Manning and Hans Beimler. Thanks to Kallie49 for enlightening discussions about this and other episodes.

* * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in the dank cave on Minos, bargaining for his life and that of his crew. Desperately hoping his CMO's childishly simple plan would work. "We've seen enough," he told the holographic salesman of the arsenal, urgency filling his voice.

"Does that mean you're going to buy it?"

"Yes, yes, we've seen enough. You've made a sale!"

"You won't be sorry."

"Good. Now end the demonstration!" Picard demanded.

The holograph smiled an oily, satisfied smile. "Done."

_Yes_, Picard thought in triumph as the projection dissolved back into its component light particles and was absorbed back into the control panel. Without further ado, the bank of lights switched off and the machine went dead.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, he quickly reestablished contact both with the rest of the away team and with the ship before returning to his wounded CMO's side with Data in tow.

He dropped to his knees beside her still form, once more gently calling her back from the brink of unconsciousness. "Beverly, hey."

She blinked up at him, her normally clear blue eyes clouded with shock and pain.

"You did it," he told her. "Now stay with me. Help will be here soon."

She graced him with a tiny nod in response.

She'd done it – she'd found a straightforward and yet most effective solution, and in doing so had quite possibly saved them all. Jean-Luc permitted himself a small smile as he studied her with unaccustomed affection touching his heart. _That's the Beverly I know and love_.

Yes, it was true. In this moment of deliverance he had no alternative but to admit it to himself. Even after so many years had passed, he still loved Beverly Howard Crusher.

When she'd first joined the crew at Farpoint Station, he'd convinced himself that the romantic feelings for her that he'd long since tried to bury and forget were gone. That time and distance had finally dispelled the sensations of longing, of passion, that had teased and tormented him for years.

Their encounter with the _Tsiolkovsky_ infection barely a week later proved just how futile that belief was. Under the influence of the virus Beverly had all but thrown herself at him in his ready room, and in response long dormant needs and desires had inflamed him. It had taken every bit of self-control he'd possessed not to take her in his arms and kiss her right then and there… _Even thinking about it now still makes me shiver_.

Although he'd deflected it with a jest, her earlier suggestion that if he found an exit he should go and leave her behind was preposterous, inconceivable. _Impossible_.

He had left her, once. On that terrible day when he'd brought Jack's body home to her. He'd had to go, to retain his own sanity. To try and control the toxic mixture of grief and guilt he felt before it touched the lives of Jack's widow and young son.

And so he'd abandoned her and her child and returned to the _Stargazer_, leaving the splintered remnants of Jack's family to fend for themselves. No wonder he now sensed an aloofness, a brittleness about Beverly in their personal interactions that he'd never encountered before.

Oh, he'd kept an eye on her from afar, imposing on his friendship with Admiral Quinn and others in Starfleet Command to make certain she and Wesley were looked after, but he'd never made direct contact with her again. A clean break, he'd decided, was the best way forward for both of them. For years he had almost even believed it.

And now here she was – here they were – back in his life once more. After so long apart Beverly had found him again – had requested a position under his command and brought her son with her to his ship, even though he had been responsible for her husband's death. It astonished him even now to think of the confidence, the trust, she placed in him.

Even after losing her husband under his command, she still trusted him. Trusted him not only with her own life but that of her only child. Jack's child. And he was determined do everything in his power to be worthy of that trust.

Yes, he had left Beverly behind once before. He could no more do it again than he could convert his arms to wings or regrow the hair on his head.

He gazed down at her, pale and bloodstained but still achingly beautiful, quietly accepting the realization that his love, his passion, for her was indeed slowly but surely reawakening. She must never learn of it, of course, nor Wesley or the others. It would be unthinkable for him to betray Jack's memory that way.

And so, as much as he longed to take her hand in his and lend her his assurance and strength while they waited for help to arrive, he refrained. _Forbearance must be the order of the day from now on,_ he decided, just as it had been when Jack was alive.

Still, for a moment there she had begun to open up to him in a personal way that both surprised and gratified him. There was so much he wanted to learn about her background, her history, and he hoped he would be given the chance to know more. Perhaps, if he was careful, they could still cultivate a friendship between them.

_What a gift that would be._

#


	3. Conspiracy

Jean-Luc Picard was standing at the long viewport behind his desk staring out at the stars flashing by at warp speed when Beverly Crusher entered his ready room.

He half turned in her direction as she walked towards him, and even from across the room she could see the melancholy lurking in his eyes. It seemed that Walker's unexpected death was affecting them both deeply. Reluctantly she forced herself to set the thought aside, letting her professionalism kick in to keep her focused on the here and now. "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

The Captain sighed, running a hand over the greying fringe of hair at the back of his head. "Beverly," he said quietly, and she started at his use of her first name, "There's something I need to tell you."

She drew in a quick breath, alarmed by the note of regret in his voice. "About the _Horatio_?"

He nodded. "Yes. I did see Walker down on Dytallix B. He – said to tell you hello. I couldn't tell you, on the bridge, before. I'm sorry." He finally met her gaze, fearing recrimination, but there was no anger in her eyes, only a deep and profound sadness.

He swallowed and went on, "He as well as Captains Rixx and Scott had a clandestine meeting with me down in the old mining colony. They came to warn me of a conspiracy reaching up to the very highest levels of Starfleet Command."

Beverly stared at him in astonishment. _A conspiracy?_ _In Starfleet?_ The very idea seemed lunatic. But she had known Walker Keel very well, and he wouldn't have called the _Enterprise_ all the way out to a backwater planet like Dytallix B without a very good reason. It appeared the Captain was taking the idea seriously as well. "A conspiracy, sir? Based on what evidence?"

"Walker and the others cited a number of irrational orders, personality changes in Starfleet commanders…and most troublingly, several unexplained deaths. And Lt. Commander Data just found an abnormal pattern in Starfleet's directives and personnel reassignments going back over the past three months that suggests a stealth invasion may be imminent."

"An invasion? And you think the…the destruction of the _Horatio_ has something to do with all this?"

His eyes darkened. "Yes, I do. Walker told me he thought the…subversion…had spread to his own ship. We're on our way to Earth now to try and find out more. I wanted to let you know before I called a meeting of the command staff." Picard returned his gaze to the viewport, the recent events and their implications clearly weighing heavily on him.

"Thank you, sir," Beverly said absently, her mind still reeling with the news. _I can't believe this_. The idea that their old friend might have been killed to cover up a conspiracy filled her with a sickening blend of outrage and pain. "You know I'll do anything I can to help," she promised.

He nodded slightly without turning around.

_First Jack and now Walker,_ she thought as she watched him in silence_. _Another one of the men from their past was dead. At one time they had been inseparable, Jack and Walker and the Captain. Jean-Luc. She found she was thinking of him that way again more and more as the days went by. He was older now than she remembered, of course, more distinguished and in many ways even more solitary than the man she knew from Jack's days on the _Stargazer_, but still the same man.

And now Walker was gone, and Jean-Luc was more isolated than ever.

He had told her when she first arrived that he hoped they would once again become friends. She wanted that more than he knew, and yet, thus far neither one of them had done much to actually make it happen. Perhaps it was time that she took the first step. She searched her mind for an appropriate way to make the overture.

"When this is over, come have a drink with me," she offered finally.

"Pardon?" He looked at her as if the universal translator had suddenly stopped working.

"Once we find out who did this," she repeated, leaning towards him, "I want to go to Ten Forward and make a toast to Walker's memory. Would you join me?"

Without even needing to consider the offer, Jean-Luc nodded gravely. "Yes, I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

#


	4. The Neutral Zone

Beverly Crusher stepped out of the turbolift and on to the bridge. She had deliberately chosen this time to come by, aware that it was nearing the end of alpha shift with the ship on a routine journey to Starbase 61 to pick up new personnel. As she anticipated, all was quiet.

The captain looked over at her from his command chair. "Doctor," he greeted.

"Captain," she replied. "May I see you for a moment?"

"Certainly." Jean-Luc Picard stood and motioned her towards his ready room. "Number One, you have the bridge."

They entered and sat down across the desk from one another.

"How can I help you, Doctor?" Picard inquired once they were settled.

Beverly leaned forward. "It's about Starfleet Medical, sir. You know that Dr. Raghavan had a fatal heart attack the other day?"

He nodded. "Yes. Sad news indeed. Hadn't he been head of Starfleet Medical for over fifteen years?"

"Sixteen," she confirmed.

"He'll be a difficult man to replace," Picard noted.

"Yes, he will. The council is going to convene a panel of medical experts from across the galaxy to recommend and implement a replacement. I've been asked to be on the panel."

"I would expect no less."

Beverly smiled at the sincerity resounding in his voice, then continued, "I've also been asked to head up Medical in the interim."

To her surprise he nodded. "Admiral Brooks already contacted me regarding your suitability for the position. I told him I could think of no one more qualified."

Again her heart warmed to hear his favorable appraisal of her skills. Jean-Luc Picard was not a man to offer praise lightly. "I appreciate that, sir."

Picard shifted. "Have you decided whether you'll take the job?" This was a question to which he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Over the past year he had gone from questioning her willingness to serve with him to relying on her expertise, and found that despite his show of enthusiasm he was surprisingly reluctant to lose her services. And, if he was being fully honest with himself, her presence on the ship.

She hesitated, as if wanting to break the news to him gently. "Yes," she said quietly, "I'm going to accept. I know I've only been here a short time, Captain, but –"

He shook his head. Despite his personal feelings, he would never stand in the way of her career advancement. "You don't need to justify your decision to me, Doctor. As I said, I can think of no one more qualified for the post."

"Thank you."

"How soon will you depart?"

"They want me to start as soon as possible. The _USS Alexander_ will be waiting at Starbase 61 to take me back to Earth."

"Understood," he said. He rose from his chair, coming around the desk as she reflexively stood in response. "Although I'll certainly see you again before you disembark, I just want to say that your service here has been exemplary, Doctor. You and Wesley will be missed."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, pleased and unexpectedly touched by his words. Then uncharacteristically, she hesitated. "About Wes…"

Picard arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well, I was wondering if he could stay here for a few more weeks –" she hastily held up a hand to forestall his protest, "just until I get settled back in San Francisco."

Jean-Luc contemplated his CMO. Surely she remembered how much he disliked children. And yes, while Wesley was different to most teenagers, up to now he'd had his mother around to curb the worst excesses of his enthusiasm. Who knew how much trouble the boy could get into on his own. Yet he could see the unspoken plea in Beverly's eyes, which not only stopped him from rejecting the idea outright but also…

He sighed. "Very well, Doctor," he said before the rational part of his mind could begin to second-guess the impulsive decision.

"You'll hardly even know he's here."

"I very much doubt that."

"Thank you, Jean-Luc. I mean it." Beverly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile, and started towards the door. "Actually, I'm sorry that Wes won't have the opportunity to stay even longer," she said to him over her shoulder. "He's at the age now where he needs mentors, and role models, and he can't do better than bridge officers like Will and Data and Worf."

Jean-Luc nodded in agreement. He did indeed have some of the best bridge officers in Starfleet.

Beverly turned back once more as the door hissed open before her. "And yourself," she added meaningfully before stepping through the doorway, leaving him staring after her, nonplussed, in silence.

#


	5. Evolution

Dr. Beverly Crusher stood in the Starfleet Medical transporter room, waiting impatiently for her turn to step up onto the pad. Although her few possessions had already been beamed to her quarters, it seemed that a great many personnel were shipping out today and she chaffed at the slight delay.

After a year away she couldn't wait to get back to the _Enterprise_. Her work here at Medical had been rewarding, but she'd missed her son terribly – and also the unique challenges of practicing medicine in deep space, where there was always the biology of a new species or a new physiological mystery to decipher. It was time to get back to doing what she truly loved.

The transporter tech finally motioned to her. "You're next, Dr. Crusher."

She nodded and stepped up onto the platform, her heart rate ticking upwards in anticipation.

She couldn't believe how much she was looking forward to returning to the ship. Not only couldn't she wait to see her son once more after nearly a year away, there were many other friends and colleagues with whom she was excited to catch up. And yet, no matter how much she told herself that she was equally eager to see everyone on board who was important to her – Deanna, Will, her team in sickbay – there was one person in particular whom she found she'd missed far more than she'd imagined.

_He'll be on the bridge or in his ready room_, she reckoned as the transporter beam enveloped her. _I'll just quickly drop by sickbay and then go find him_.

The next instant she was back in the well-remembered environs of the _Enterprise_ transporter room.

A very familiar, very welcome figure stood waiting for her.

Beverly's breath caught at the unexpected sight. _He's come down to greet me_, she realized, unable to suppress the thrill that went through her at the thought. She was at once surprised and gratified that he'd taken time out of his busy schedule to come see her return in person.

"Welcome back, Doctor," Jean-Luc Picard said as she stepped off the dais. His tone was formal but a look of distinct pleasure lit his face.

She returned his warm smile with an equally warm smile of her own. "Thanks. It's good to be home."

"Let me walk you to your quarters," he offered, placing a hand solicitously at the small of her back as she moved past him towards the door. "Wesley is still on duty, but I've given him leave to end his shift early and see you."

"Thank you." Beverly smiled into his clear hazel eyes. As they fell into step together like she'd never been away, she couldn't help thinking: _Maybe he's missed me, too_.

#


	6. Who Watches the Watchers

Dr. Beverly Crusher lowered the dermal regenerator and contemplated her patient with a touch of exasperation. Starship captains were not supposed to get shot while away on diplomatic missions. Especially not with arrows.

At least there hadn't been any toxins or xenopathogens on the arrowhead to contend with. Jean-Luc was a lucky man. "There, Captain. I've repaired the tissue damage, but it's going to take at least 24 hours for the muscle fibers around the wound to fully heal. So in the meantime I want you to wear this sling to take the pressure off your shoulder." She took the strip of sturdy black cloth being proffered by the attending nurse and started to unfold it.

"I'll be perfectly fine –" he began to protest.

"Doctor's orders," she cut in smoothly.

He huffed, a sound that Beverly found unexpectedly charming. She deftly draped the flexible black cloth around his neck and fitted it over his left forearm, then tied it so that the arm was supported by the cloth rather than by the newly repaired musculature in his shoulder.

"There." She took a small step back to survey her handiwork. "That should do it. Try not to grip anything heavy in that hand for the next day or two," she instructed.

Jean-Luc shot her a disgruntled look that only served to make her smile.

"And don't jostle it," she admonished him. "I don't want to have to redo my repairs."

"Very well." He levered himself off the biobed with his good hand and started towards the door. He still had unfinished business down on Mintaka III. "Thank you, Doctor," he added over his shoulder, not wishing to seem ungrateful for her aid.

"Captain," Beverly said quietly behind him, halting his departure in its tracks.

He turned back inquiringly.

"Deanna told me what happened down there. You took a hell of a risk, Jean-Luc." She shook her head. "I can't say I approve."

"I did what I thought was necessary given the situation," he replied mildly.

"You nearly got yourself killed. I know you're willing to give your life for your principles, but," Beverly glanced around, waiting until the rest of her staff were out of earshot before adding softly, "just…well, just know there are people who would miss you if you met an untimely demise." She'd been aiming for a light, bantering tone, but somehow the thought of losing him made the words come out more solemnly than she'd intended.

Their gazes met for a brief, charged moment as a flicker of emotion appeared in his eyes, then was gone. He gave her a somber nod. "Understood."

#


	7. The High Ground

Author's Note: The dialogue at the end of this scene was written by Melinda M. Snodgrass.

* * *

"_I may have to kill him."_

Finn's words burned in her mind.

Beverly stood in the cave at the back of the rebels' hideout, watching Jean-Luc as he gazed at the drawings in the sketchbook Finn had given her.

She wondered now how she could ever have thought the Ansata leader might be able to claim the moral high ground. His unprovoked attack on the _Enterprise_ plus their conversation just now – and his ominous threat to kill her captain – had made it abundantly clear that Kyril Finn was no Jean-Luc Picard. Finn may not want her to fear him, but nonetheless he was a fanatic and a cold-blooded killer.

Whereas Jean-Luc was both an extraordinary leader and the most extraordinary of men. Everyone knew it – from the _Enterprise_ crew to the President of the Federation to the rawest cadet at Starfleet Academy.

Right from the first moment they'd met she could see that he was marked with greatness. She and Jack used to joke that Jack had hitched his star to the hardest act to follow in all of Starfleet, and that Jean-Luc was surely destined for the Admiralty if the politics didn't kill him first. And nothing that transpired down the years – not Jack's accident, nor the loss of the _Stargazer_ – had shaken that belief.

Until now.

For if Finn got his way, Jean-Luc's life could end here. The innocent victim of a cruel power play, in the midst of an endless, senseless conflict with which Starfleet was only trying to help.

And she would never have the chance to tell him…so many things. Things that had been building within her for some time now, beginning when she and Wesley had joined the _Enterprise_ nearly three years ago.

First of all, she needed to make sure he knew that she'd never held him responsible for Jack's death. Even all these years later they'd never actually spoken about it directly. But earlier, when she'd spoken of Wesley's role models on the _Enterprise,_ she could see Jean-Luc was thinking of Jack, and she recognized as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud that he still felt guilty over his best friend's demise.

Beverly had always presumed that taking the CMO post under Jean-Luc's command sent him a sufficiently clear message that she didn't condemn him for the accident on the _Stargazer_ – but perhaps she needed to tell him more directly that she didn't blame him and that it was time he stopped blaming himself. Jean-Luc was very good at taking all the responsibility onto his own shoulders, but life was too short for him to continue carrying that sort of burden.

Beyond that she wanted to more fully express her gratitude for his mentorship of Wes – especially after such an inauspicious start. After their awkward first encounter on the _Enterprise_ bridge she never imagined that Jean-Luc would let her son set foot there again, much less make him part of the crew and allow him to share in the responsibility of piloting the ship. That experience was making Wesley into a very fine man, and she'd meant every word she'd said to Jean-Luc about her son having good role models.

Finally, she wanted to tell him how grateful she also was for their renewed friendship, which had been rekindled over the past few months and was becoming something she considered a rare gift, one that she cherished.

What she didn't dare tell him was how much she cared for him. As a leader – and as a man. One day, she hoped, there would be a time for that, for exploring the possibilities that lay between them. In particular, the possibility that their friendship might one day grow into something much more intimate.

_But not now. Not today. Not sitting here as prisoners in a rebel hideaway where anyone could overhear. If Finn found out how I really feel about Jean-Luc… _She shuddered at the thought. Setting her jaw, she forced her mind back onto its objective.

Frankly, getting across all she did want to say to Jean-Luc now was going to be difficult enough. For, although he accepted criticism with an open mind and a keen desire to improve himself in response, he accepted gratitude with far less grace. Still, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. With his hands literally tied, he was just going to have to sit there and take it.

If she could get his attention, that is.

"This might prove to be an advantage to us," he noted as she tossed Finn's drawing pad aside.

It might, but she needed him to stop thinking of escape for one moment and listen to her. "Jean-Luc," she began, and then paused as she realized how forcefully the words had left her lips.

Breathing out an apologetic sigh, Beverly slowly lowered herself to sit beside him. "There are some things I want to tell you."

He went still, his attention fully on her at last.

Finn's voice, his threat, sounded in her head again_. Jean-Luc could die here. We both could. _Because somewhere in the past few minutes she had made an unconscious but irrevocable decision._ I'll be damned if I'm going to let him die alone._ "In case we don't get out of this –"

And right then, with impeccable timing, the lights cut out and everything went black.

#


	8. Sarek

Jean-Luc sat quietly in Beverly's arms. He was still weeping silently, but the shuddering anguish that had wracked him for so long had eased, at least momentarily. Her healer's heart bled for him and for the twentieth time she wished there was something, anything she could do to ease the suffering that was consuming him. This man's pain somehow felt like her own.

She shifted her weight slightly, wondering how many more minutes – hours – of trying to keep control of Sarek's raging emotions he would have to endure. At least her embrace seemed to bring him solace, so she continued to hold him tight as he fought to keep the ancient Vulcan's lifetime of suppressed torment at bay.

"I should have saved him." His low voice, a bare whisper, drew her out of her reverie. "I tried, but I couldn't."

Beverly stilled, breath catching in her chest as the wounded misery in his tone lanced through her. She somehow knew at once whom he was referring to. _Jack_. This was no longer Sarek's guilt and regret surfacing, it was Jean-Luc's.

"I'm so sorry." His voice broke on a sob.

Beverly shut her eyes against the sudden blur of tears. "Don't," she whispered fiercely. "Don't blame yourself, Jean-Luc. I never have."

He drew back a fraction to look her in the eyes. "Haven't you?" he murmured softly.

"Never." She took his hand and gently cradled it, like she would a child's. "It was an accident, Jean-Luc. A terrible accident. That's all. I never blamed you, and neither does Wesley. And we don't want you to blame yourself."

He shook his head against her absolution, his eyes still dark and filled with remorse.

Her grip on his hand tightened. "Don't you remember? I requested this assignment on the _Enterprise_. And I brought Wes with me. Do you think I would have done that if I blamed you for what happened to Jack? If I didn't trust you with my life, and my son's?"

"But it was my order –"

"It was your duty," she countered. "I know that, and so did Jack."

He closed his eyes, and Beverly silently cursed herself for never bringing this up with him before. She'd tried, once, when they'd both been prisoners back on Rutia IV, but events had overtaken them and after that the timing had just never seemed right.

"I never wanted to hurt you. He loved you so."

Beverly bit back a sob of her own, feeling the old ache of missing Jack wash over her once more. "I know." She pulled Jean-Luc against her again, unable to bear the look of haunted sorrow in his gaze. "But you have nothing to be guilty about. Please, Jean-Luc," she begged him as she began to rub small, soothing circles across his back. "Just let it go."

For endless seconds he sat stiffly in her embrace. Then he loosed a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul before finally relaxing against her chest.

"That's right," Beverly murmured, trying to contain her relief at having finally gotten through to him. "Just let it all go."

At that moment the door announcer chimed.

_At last_, Beverly thought.

Slowly, reluctantly, the two drew apart, mirrored expressions of relief on their faces.

"Okay?" she asked, reaching out a hand to briefly touch his still damp cheek.

He nodded and wiped the remaining tears from his face. "Thank you."

His eyes held more emotion than she was ready to acknowledge, so Beverly settled for giving his hand a quick squeeze before settling into the chair next to his.

Jean-Luc straightened his uniform as best he could and cleared his throat. "Come," he called.

Sarek stepped into the room, his lined face tranquil and proud. "It is done." His eyes met Jean-Luc's. "Thank you, my friend. Are you well enough?"

"Yes." He nodded as he rose, his eyes momentarily slipping to Beverly's. "Yes, I believe I will be."

#


	9. Best of Both Worlds

The light in the captain's private section of sickbay was muted. From the biobed Jean-Luc could hear the slight background hum of machinery and quiet voices in the main room. His years of experience as the ship's captain told him that it was late into the second shift, or possibly just beginning the third.

He shifted on the bed, wishing he could move more freely. But his entire right arm, from hand to shoulder, was encased in a cumbersome tissue regenerator. The right side of his head and neck as well as most of his lower torso and both legs were covered with dermal patches. Pain scratched around the edges of his consciousness, although the medication was holding it at bay.

He turned his head fractionally to gaze at the vision of loveliness standing beside him. Beverly had just finished sweeping her tricorder over him and was staring intently down at the results. At least she wasn't frowning this time. He took that as a small sign of progress.

Even from his vantage he could discern the weariness in her eyes, her pose, and the lines of fatigue around her mouth. Yet she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He knew she had been there. On the Borg ship. She had come after him, with the others. Despite the terrible dangers they had come for him and ultimately they had brought him home.

They were still reckoning with the toll it had taken on each of them.

"Rest," he murmured. One word. Even after nearly three days of recovery, one word at a time was still all he could manage.

At hearing his voice Beverly looked up, momentarily startled, then reassuring. A slight smile curved her lips as she ran a hand along the side of his face. He leaned into it, its warmth on his skin blissful after days of experiencing nothing but the feel of cold, hard metal. "Yes, Jean-Luc," she replied, her voice a caress. "You've come through the last surgery – now it's time to rest."

_The last surgery_, he repeated to himself. The latest of four, or was it five? All part of the long, painstaking process to physically separate him from the Borg implants. And Beverly had performed every single one, adamantly refused to let anyone else near him with a laser scalpel. Hours upon hours spent in the operating unit – and this last surgery had been one of the most delicate of all, to remove the terrible weaponry from his arm and hand, and restore the fine motor control to his fingers. Did she have any idea how much her care, her devotion, meant to him?

And even now – anyone on her staff could check his vital signs and change his dermal patches, yet here she was, taking care of him herself, as she had since the moment he'd reappeared back on the ship. _She must be as exhausted as I feel._

He watched her silently, and then surprised them both by reaching up with his free hand and lightly grasping her wrist in his fingers. "You…rest," he whispered.

She smiled tightly and busied herself with a regen patch on his cheek, avoiding his eyes. "Jean-Luc –"

His grip tightened fractionally as he fought to get through to her. "I'm…going to be…fine."

For a moment her eyes shone with tears – then she blinked and they were gone. "I know," she replied softly, and he wasn't sure whether he imagined a slight tremor in her voice.

But she didn't move, and his hand dropped away as the spurt of energy faded. For now he would admit defeat. Because as much as he wanted her to go and see to her own needs, another part of him was treasuring every moment she was by his side.

Her familiar, cherished presence reminded him what it was to be human. _To care and be cared for. To love._ His eyes closed on that grateful rumination.

_I'm going to be fine_, was his last thought before surrendering to sleep. _Thanks to you_.

#


	10. Remember Me

Author's Note: The bits of dialogue in this scene were written by Lee Sheldon.

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard sat on the bridge of the _Enterprise_, listening with intense concentration as Data and Riker docked the ship at Starbase 371, re-establishing the precise coordinates and attitude of the ship at the time when Wesley Crusher had initiated his ill-fated warp bubble experiment down in Engineering.

At the back of his mind he could hear the seconds ticking relentlessly away like the timer on an auto-destruct sequence. Less than four minutes remained. Less than four minutes to rescue the love of his life from a pointless, inadvertent, certain death.

And there was no telling whether they would succeed.

Jean-Luc had never faced a future so bleak.

_Well, there's nothing more that can be done here._ He knew where he wanted – needed – to be. He rose and tugged down sharply on the hem of his uniform tunic. "I'll be in Engineering," he said over his shoulder, heading for the turbolift without a backward glance.

* * *

Less than two minutes later he was striding into main Engineering. His eyes quickly swept the room. There was no sign of Beverly.

Mr. La Forge stood gazing fixedly at the warp core, while young Wesley Crusher and the being Picard recognized as the Traveler flanked the main console. Their fingers flew over the controls despite the fact that their eyes were tightly shut, and hope filled Picard's heart as he recognized that they were engaged in a procedure that went far beyond his understanding.

Although impatient to know what was happening he forced himself to stand still and silently watch as the two flickered in and out of reality, realizing that any interference, any break in concentration now might doom the entire enterprise. The seconds marched relentlessly onward, until,

"We're losing the bubble!" La Forge shouted.

_No! _It took every ounce of Jean-Luc's self-control to remain quiet, to let Wesley and the Traveler continue their work uninterrupted. He wished desperately that there were something, anything at all that he could contribute. It was agonizing to know that he was in command of the flagship of the Federation, a galaxy class starship with a thousand-strong crew, and yet with all the power and expertise at his disposal there was nothing he could do to help save the woman he loved.

He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose Beverly.

Not only was she the best CMO he'd ever had, but over the past few years – all unlooked for – she'd become something far more precious to him – his friend. His cherished friend, one of a very small and seemingly ever-dwindling number.

She had so many qualities that he regarded highly. He treasured her intelligence and strong will, her independent, fiery spirit, her empathy and brilliance as a doctor. Her understanding of his need for privacy and solitude as a refuge from the burdens of command. The way she was his staunchest supporter and also, when necessary, his fiercest critic.

He even enjoyed her impish sense of mischief – as exasperating as it could be – most of the time secretly pleased that she felt comfortable enough in their relationship to tease him mercilessly. Her presence on the _Enterprise_ these past few years reminded him how much he needed that in his life. Someone to challenge him, to keep him on his toes, to shake him out of his – not complacency – but his structure, his routine.

But of course, no matter how much he loved her as a friend, the truth was she meant far more to him than that. She stirred his blood like no other woman ever could. He never had, and never would, feel about another woman the way he felt about her. The way he had felt about her for years, ever since the very first time they'd met. He loved her with his whole being – body, heart and soul – and that love constituted part of the immutable bedrock of his life.

He would never tell her. She was Jack's widow, and he could never forget that. But even that knowledge didn't – couldn't – change how he felt.

Throughout the years the three of them had been friends he'd fought his attraction to his best friend's wife. Knowing that it was hopeless, convinced that it was wrong. And keenly regretting the slight distance it forced him to place between himself and the two people he held most dear. At times, to his despair, he almost resented Beverly for the unwitting hold she had over him – and then castigated himself for the unfairness of his thoughts. Only time and distance had finally tempered his ardor and loosened the dominion she had over his heart.

But now, all these years later, as his once intense passion had reawakened during their time together onboard the _Enterprise_, he was slowly coming to view his feelings in a different light. Experience was teaching him the precious nature of this love – unspoken and unrequited as it was. No matter how dark the hour it gave him something beautiful to hold on to, to treasure, deep in his heart…

No, he would never tell her. But now, no longer tainted by guilt, he was beginning to discover that the pure, unalloyed essence of his love for her was sustaining him like nothing else he had ever known.

_I can't lose her now, _he silently begged the universe at large_. Please, not now_.

Jean-Luc felt the change an instant before he saw it. An acceleration of the air molecules racing towards him from across the room, followed by a sudden rend in the fabric of reality just beside the warp core. Stunning blue-white light snapped and cracked through the room as though a huge electrical storm had suddenly materialized inside the ship.

Then he heard a thump next to the warp core, saw a flash of blue and a tangle of limbs. He barely noticed that the light and sound vanished, only that a body had appeared and landed hard on the deck with a pained gasp. A living, moving, breathing body – that of the woman he loved beyond measure. And all at once he was in motion, striding past Wesley as though he wasn't even there.

"Beverly!" Jean-Luc knelt beside her as she rolled onto her side and began to sit up. Took her arms and quickly scanned her for signs of injury. To his infinite relief she seemed unharmed.

She gazed up at him, her face alight with wonder.

He helped her to her feet, not releasing his hold on her for an instant. "Jean-Luc," she breathed, exhaling a wobbly sigh of astonishment and release. And then she was embracing him with a desperate strength that told him she knew precisely how close she had just come to oblivion.

He held her tight, just as he had always wanted to hold her, and wished that the moment would never end.

#


	11. Final Mission

Author's Note: The dialogue herein, except for the three lines at the end, was written by Kacey Arnold-Ince and Jeri Taylor.

* * *

Beverly Crusher's shift had officially ended hours ago but she still haunted the bridge, waiting for news.

Wesley and Jean-Luc were missing. Their shuttle had inexplicably failed to arrive at the mining settlement on Pentarus V, and the diversion of the _Enterprise_ to the Gamelan system meant that they had lagged far behind in the search for the missing craft. Even now that they were on the hunt the situation still looked bleak. There was no sign of the shuttle, no energy signature, no trail to follow, nothing.

Beverly clung to the fact that, so far, there was no actual, physical evidence that they were dead. But there was no evidence that they were alive, either, and the latter possibility was becoming more and more remote with each passing moment.

She was glad Deanna wasn't on the bridge with them, that she was spared the empath's kind words and sympathetic gaze. She didn't need sympathy right now. What she needed was to hear that the two people she loved most in the universe were alive and well down on one of the planets below them.

Inexorably her thoughts turned to Wesley – her beautiful, precocious boy. A young man now, really, soon to be heading off to Starfleet Academy, just like Jack. She was so proud of him. He was so smart, so gifted…and so much like his father. He still had his whole life ahead of him.

And Jean-Luc – he was her CO and her friend, and yet at the same time he was so much more. He was the one man who had made her feel alive since Jack died. The one man she was drawn to not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Who made it seem possible to imagine, on quiet nights in the darkness of her quarters, that she might not spend the rest of her life alone.

_Where are they?_

It was the not knowing that was the worst. She was caught – trapped, like a fly in amber – half way between hope and despair.

The _Enterprise_ sat at the last known location of the shuttlecraft, performing her own scans of the area. Beverly's heart clenched the moment Commander Data reported that his instruments were detecting significant elements of debris. She struggled to fight back the rising tide of fear that threatened to sweep her under.

"Are you certain?" acting-Captain Riker asked, moving to stand behind Data at the operations console. Geordi La Forge flanked him on the other side, lending his engineering expertise.

"It is definitely debris," Data reported, still scanning the area in question. "The primary material is duranium, with smaller proportions of sonomite and vermanium."

"Most shuttlecraft hulls are made of duranium," La Forge noted.

That was it. The blow had fallen. The shuttlecraft had been destroyed. _Oh god, no. Wesley, Jean-Luc_ – "Then they're gone," Beverly said flatly. As the import of her words began to sink in her knees threatened to give way beneath her, and only sheer force of will kept her upright.

"Not necessarily, Doctor," Data replied over his shoulder. "There is far too little debris to account for an entire shuttlecraft."

Beverly's heart began to beat again. There was still hope. As the initial sheer, crushing sense of loss began to fade, input from her surroundings gradually trickled back into her consciousness as the bridge officers around her discussed the possibility that the shuttle had crash-landed on one of nearby moons.

"Set a course, Ensign," Riker commanded. "We'll search each one in turn."

As Data nodded, Will's eyes fixed on Beverly's. "We'll find them. No matter how long it takes."

She forced herself to nod in response. _We'll find them. We have to. _She clung to the thought with all the stubbornness that was in her nature.

Because the alternative was too terrible to even contemplate.

#


	12. Galaxy's Child

Beverly placed her utensils on her empty plate and sat back with a sigh. She watched as her dinner companion pushed his food around his own plate, his mind clearly light years away. "More wine?"

Jean-Luc's fork stilled and he glanced up. "No, thank you," he replied. His hazel eyes met hers, but tonight they lacked their usual spark of vitality that so often held her spellbound. Evidently the day's events were still affecting him deeply.

From long experience she knew better than to directly ask what was weighing him down. The captain was a past master at deflecting interest in his feelings. But that didn't mean she couldn't make a few observations of her own.

"It's been quite a day," she noted, trying to nudge some sort of conversation into life. "After all, it's not often you encounter a whole new life form. Especially one that seems to have evolved to spend its entire life in deep space."

He nodded, animation returning to his face and rendering his angular features singularly handsome. "Yes, it's quite extraordinary," he agreed, his deep voice colored with wonder. "Just imagine what kind of physiology it must have developed to adapt to life in zero gravity, the propulsive system necessary to travel between the stars."

"Not to mention how beings that largely consist of plasma energy manage to reproduce…" She smiled. "I have to admit I've never performed a C-section with a phaser before."

His eyes filled with sorrow at her words. "To think we killed that remarkable creature –"

"In self defense," she reminded him swiftly, cutting across his words.

He shook his head. "Nevertheless. Between the Malcorians and now this…" His voice trailed off in a low sigh. "I handled neither situation with sufficient skill."

The regretful expression on Jean-Luc's face tore at Beverly's heart. He was always very hard on himself, and she hated to see him so disheartened as a result of events that were beyond his control. Especially when she knew that in both cases he referred to he'd done everything exactly by the book. But there was no point in arguing with him, either, so she tried a different tack. "At least with our help Junior survived, and found others of his kind," she pointed out.

She saw him wince at her use of the crew's nickname for the baby, but then allow himself to relax as he responded to the teasing twinkle in her eyes. "Yes."

"He really just let go of the ship and swam away?"

Jean-Luc nodded.

Her lips curved upward as she imagined the scene. "With no thank you, I suppose, no final wave goodbye?"

"Not even a backward glance," he said wryly.

Beverly shook her head in mock despair. "That's children for you."

They shared a smile, and Beverly silently congratulated herself for successfully pulling her companion out of his malaise.

_This has been nice. I wish we could do it more often_.

Jean-Luc had thoughtfully invited her to dinner the night Wesley had left for the Academy, and they'd shared a quiet meal in his quarters that had brought to an unexpectedly enjoyable end what had otherwise been a painfully melancholy day.

A short time later she tried to return the favor – half expecting he would refuse – but to her delight he'd readily agreed to join her. Unfortunately, disruptions to their respective schedules had led to one or other of them having to cancel every night for the past week. Just when she was beginning to despair that it was never going to happen, they'd managed to carve out time for an early meal tonight.

Jean-Luc folded his napkin and set it on the table with a small sigh. "Well, I'm afraid I need to be going. I must finish reviewing the Zoftonian bylaws before the meeting tomorrow morning." He rose. "Thank you for dinner, Beverly."

Beverly rose as well, trying to hide her disappointment that their time together was coming to an end so early in the evening. "You're welcome," she replied, walking him to the door.

They paused together just before reaching it, turning to catch and hold each other's eyes, and for an instant Beverly wondered if Jean-Luc might be as reluctant to leave as she was for him to go.

"I'd like to do this again," she added, finally giving voice to her earlier thoughts.

Jean-Luc smiled with unexpected warmth, sending a glow of pleasure radiating through her. "So would I."

"But it's been so difficult to coordinate our schedules…"

He nodded. "I know."

Beverly set her jaw. She was determined to surmount the difficulty. For a long time now she'd been hoping for the chance to spend more time with Jean-Luc out of uniform and she wasn't about to let this golden opportunity slip away.

She considered swiftly. The problem with dinner was always the timing, coming as it did at the end of a day's worth of accumulated meetings, interruptions and crises. But what about the start of the day…when there were far fewer constraints? "Well, then, what about breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" He hesitated. "To be honest, I rarely take the time for it."

She shot him a look. "As your doctor I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Pressing on, "You must have something to get you going in the morning, Jean-Luc. I seem to recall that when you stayed over with Jack and me you at least had a cup of tea."

She was smiling now, hopeful. _This could actually work_. "I think I can still manage to replicate a cup of Earl Grey."

"Fine. I'll see you in the morning. Would 0630 suit you?"

"Perfectly."

"Until tomorrow, then." He took a step forward to activate the door mechanism, then paused on the threshold and looked back, smiling with a gentleness that seemed wholly out of place in a starship captain and yet, she knew, was part of what made him so very special. "Goodnight, Beverly."

"Goodnight." Her voice was a whisper as she watched him depart.

As the door closed Beverly turned and drifted back to the table. Her lips quirked upward as she reviewed the night's proceedings in her mind, feeling better about life than she had for a long time. Tonight had shown that she and Jean-Luc had grown comfortable in each other's company, and that she was learning to temper the longing that being in his presence inevitably evoked. Moreover, what had begun as simply a nice meal and engaging conversation had yielded a promise of more regular interactions to come.

_Yes._ It had been an altogether satisfying evening.

#


	13. The Host

Beverly Crusher sat in her silent sickbay, gazing at the stasis bubble harboring the motionless Trill symbiont. Ambassador Odan. Her lover – in a strange and almost hopelessly complicated way.

Her lover who was currently near death, and getting nearer with every passing moment. Salvation in the form of a new host was on the way, but the captain had just come by sickbay to check on the recovering Will Riker and had informed her it would still be some time before the _Enterprise_ was able to rendezvous with the Trill vessel.

Her gut churned with tension. She knew she was approaching physical and emotional exhaustion and she couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten. Probably during the negotiations earlier this afternoon when Jean-Luc had dragged her from the bridge into his ready room and replicated them each a slice of quiche. That had been hours ago, but although she knew she needed to keep up her strength for the surgery to come, the thought of trying to have anything now made her feel sick to her stomach.

Just then the sickbay door slid open to once again reveal Captain Picard. Beverly rose, half surprised and half alarmed. He'd only been gone five minutes.

Without a word he walked straight towards her. His eyes were direct, determined, purpose evident in every stride.

"Yes, Captain?" she said as he drew near. _Is something wrong? Is there another delay?_

"I want you to transfer Odan into my body," he announced.

She gaped. "What?"

"It will keep him alive until the new host arrives."

Beverly stared at him, feeling a flare of fear in her gut. Not the queasy unease and worry that had been her constant companion for the past few days, but a cold, clammy terror. She shook her head in sharp, instinctive refusal. "No. A human host body can't adapt to the symbiont. It would kill you. You saw what happened to Will."

Jean-Luc pursed his lips. "That was over the course of nearly two days. This will only be for a few hours. Just until we rendezvous with the Trill ship."

It was a magnificent, magnanimous offer. And it was so very like Jean-Luc to make it. It was also completely out of the question. She couldn't put his life at risk like that.

Not even for Odan.

"I can't," she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Everyone's physiology is different. Your body might reject the symbiont even more quickly than Will's. There are just too many variables, too many unknowns."

"Beverly –"

"Jean-Luc, I can't." If he wouldn't heed her medical advice, she hoped her next argument would be enough to dissuade him. "You're the captain and your duty is to the thousand crewmembers on this ship," she reminded him. "You can't just relinquish command and let yourself be taken over by another entity, especially with your first officer out of action as well."

He grimaced, refusing to give in. "Commander Data can –"

"Commander Data isn't you. We simply can't take the risk of something going wrong." She blew out a breath and ran one hand through her hair before fixing her eyes on his. "Shall we ask Starfleet Command what they think? Because we both know they'll say the same thing."

She saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes and knew she had won. The feeling of relief was nearly overpowering, and she spared a quick, apologetic thought for Odan, hoping he would understand.

"I'm sorry." She forced herself to add, "We'll just have to hope the new host gets here in time."

Jean-Luc reached out and laid a gentle hand on her bicep. "We're making every effort –"

She could feel the warmth of his palm all the way through her lab coat and drew a measure of comfort from the contact. He was trying so hard, and she loved him for it. "I know."

He nodded, eyes hooded with sadness, and then turned and headed for the door.

She watched him depart, then slumped back into her chair as fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. But her brain was still running at warp nine and refused to slow. _When will the new host get here? What will he be like? Who in their right mind would actually volunteer for this?_

Thoughts swirled as she tried to process the implications of one living being permanently taking over occupancy of another. Was the host mind and spirit lost, or only suppressed? Odan had assured them that after his removal the Riker they knew would be fully restored, but what happened to him while Odan was in place? Had he known, felt, anything?

If she'd accepted his offer to become a temporary host, what would have become of the Jean-Luc she knew and – well. Would he have had any awareness at all?

Her tired mind drifted back to what he'd said to her in his ready room that morning:

_Whatever else I may be to you, I am your friend._

If only he knew how much it meant to her to hear those words right then.

Friendship wasn't everything she wanted. But it was enough for now.

With a grateful sigh, she pulled her chair over to the nearest empty biobed and, lowering her head onto her crossed arms, fell asleep.

#


	14. Violations

Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between chapters – normal service has now been restored. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

She answered the door a long while after he'd rung for the third time.

Jean-Luc let his hand drop from where it was about to punch in the override code and gazed at his CMO. He hadn't seen her since their final meeting in the conference room with Tarmin, which had been many hours ago now. Immediately he noticed that her usually sparkling, brilliant blue eyes looked hollow and tired. "Beverly?" he said quietly.

With a listless flap of the hand she waved him inside. "I thought you were Deanna."

_Yes, as I guessed_. "Would that be so bad?" he replied, carefully moving past her into the room.

She shrugged as the door hissed closed behind him. "You tell me."

_You're not particularly happy to see me, either, are you?_

He exhaled a slow, patient breath. Knowing he wasn't the cause of her less than effusive welcome tonight he refused to let it faze him. Instead he took quick stock of her appearance. Despite her shift being long over she will still in uniform, although her lab coat lay discarded in a crumpled heap on the floor near the table. The paleness of her skin stood out in stark contrast to her auburn hair falling in waves to her shoulders and framing her delicate features.

To the causal observer she might look outwardly unruffled, but knowing her as well as he did he could pick out the thin lines around her eyes and mouth, the tension in her shoulders, and the way her body hunched slightly inward in an uncharacteristically defensive pose. _She's more weary and stressed than she's letting on, _Jean-Luc thought, _and no wonder_.

Beverly stood silently, enduring the scrutiny.

"I hoped you'd be asleep," he said at last, attempting unsuccessfully to mask the worry in his voice. It was very late, but somehow he'd known she would still be awake. That was, in fact, what had impelled his impromptu visit. He'd worn civilian clothes in hopes of conveying that he'd not come in any official capacity. But from her terse responses it seemed evident that Beverly was only suffering his presence tonight regardless.

Another slight shrug. "So did I."

"Have you slept at all since –" he paused for a moment, groping for any remotely diplomatic words with which to refer to what had transpired on the ship over the past three days.

"Since the Ullians came aboard and mentally raped Will and Deanna and me?" Beverly flashed. "No." Her chin rose and her eyes were smoldering.

There was no question in his mind she was now spoiling for a fight. _Well, perhaps that's a good thing_, he decided. _She needs to start dealing with her anger somehow. _Still he wasn't here to provoke an altercation. It wasn't in his nature and in any case it would only cause her to expend energy she clearly didn't have.

Jean-Luc thought back to their formal dinner in the observation lounge two days earlier when she'd teasingly suggested that he might ask the Ullians to probe his memories. At the time he'd been embarrassed and tempted to reprimand her for the inappropriately personal nature of her remarks. But now he just dearly wanted that mischievous, lighthearted Beverly back. He took a step forward. "Beverly, I –"

"Don't say you're sorry," she demanded through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare say that. None of this was your fault!"

By some stroke of good fortune there had been no physical damage done to Beverly or the others by the Ullian Jev's psychic attack. However, the mental trauma he'd inflicted would require time from which to recover. Jean-Luc was acutely aware that Beverly had been forced to deal with past traumas in her life – the tragedy of Arvada III, Jack's death – on her own. He was determined that, this time, she would not have to cope alone. He replied mildly, "I just wanted to say that I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I want you to know that."

"Oh," she said faintly. She appeared to visibly deflate before him. For a moment her control slipped and tears filled her eyes.

Aching to reach out to her, Jean-Luc forced himself to watch in silence as she clenched her jaw and then sharply shook her head as if to clear it. "Thank you, Captain, but I'll be fine." Her eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm not here as your captain, Beverly. I'm here as your friend." His normally silky voice was low and rough with suppressed emotion. The thought of what she had gone through the past few days agonized him like nothing else could.

She lifted her head on hearing the genuine warmth and concern suffusing his tone, and seemed to really look at him for the first time since he had arrived. Her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you, Jean-Luc." Then once again she shook her head, this time looking truly vexed. And once again tears threatened. "Only right now I can't –"

"It's all right," Jean-Luc rejoined soothingly. "There will be time for that later. Right now, just know that I am here, that you are cared for, and that we will get through this." He gathered her hands in his and gave the lean fingers a firm squeeze. "Together."

She nodded and returned the gesture with a slight pressure from her own fingers.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer, then," he added, reluctantly withdrawing his hands from hers. "It's already long past midnight. So get some sleep."

One shapely eyebrow rose at the authoritative note in his voice – not quite a command, but somehow not quite a suggestion, either.

He smiled gently in response. "That's not an order. That's a request – from a friend."

For the first time in three days he could see a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. "All right, I'll try."

Without allowing himself to think about it too carefully, Jean-Luc pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist, enfolding her into a hug.

A small sigh escaped Beverly's lips as her arms encircled his neck, holding him tight, pressing his body against her own.

Jean-Luc tilted his head slightly against hers in silent reassurance. For an instant he was lost in the sensation of simply holding her and he had to make himself take a step back even as his body wanted to linger, drawn to her proximity like a compass to true magnetic north.

"See you for breakfast in the morning?" she asked, her expression hopeful as they turned and walked together to the door.

His heart lifted. _Good, she's already looking ahead rather than dwelling on what's past._ "Count on it," he replied emphatically, relieved by the reappearance of that resilient side of her nature he knew so well and loved so much.

His feelings for her were only growing as they began to spend more and more time together out of uniform. Fortunately, though, he was also getting better at compartmentalizing them – except for times like these. _I will help you get through this, Beverly. I need you to be well._

His companion must have seen something of the consternation in his eyes, for she reached out one hand to cup his cheek. "I'll be fine, Jean-Luc, really," she asserted, and he marveled that – after all she had just been through – she was now seeking to reassure _him_.

"I know," he whispered. _I do know. I count on it. And now I must go, before I say or do too much_. "Goodnight, Beverly."

"Goodnight, Jean-Luc."

"Come find me if you need anything."

This time the smile reached her eyes. "I will."

"Sleep well."

"You, too."

#


	15. The First Duty

Author's Note: The first two lines of dialogue come from the episode written by Ronald D. Moore and Naren Shankar.

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher stood in main engineering with Data and Geordi La Forge, attempting to re-create the movements of Wesley Crusher's Nova Squadron just prior to their crash during a training exercise that killed Wesley's fellow cadet, Joshua Albert. As they discussed the data from Wesley's flight recorder and the way that his ship had been operating at the time, something that La Forge said touched a chord in the captain.

"Ignite the plasma," Jean-Luc slowly repeated. The words sparked a dim and distant memory, and in a sudden moment of clarity the entire scenario slotted into place in his mind. "That's exactly what they were trying to do." _The reckless, foolhardy idiots_, he fumed silently.

He turned to the anxious woman standing beside him. _She needs to know what happened. But I must tell her in private, not here in the middle of Engineering._ "Doctor, my ready room."

She raised an inquiring eyebrow but nodded without making a comment, and within moments they were standing in the ready room while out the viewport the blue orb of the planet Earth spun slowly below them.

Jean-Luc strode behind his desk and stood with one hand resting on the back of the chair. Beverly settled into the seat across from him with a tired sigh.

Jean-Luc stared sightlessly down at his darkened computer monitor. He was at a loss for a way to begin to explain to Wesley's mother his suspicions about what Nova Squadron had been doing at the time of the accident that claimed Joshua Albert's life. At the moment his usual facility for tact and diplomacy seemed to have deserted him entirely.

"Well, out with it, Jean-Luc!" Beverly demanded peremptorily.

He started, his hazel eyes snapping to meet her clear blue ones.

"Ever since we left Engineering you've had a look on your face like somebody just shot Data's cat," she accused. "I can tell it isn't good news, but just – out with it, already." She clenched her hands tightly in her lap as she waited for him to speak.

Jean-Luc's lips twitched downward. "Very well." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Mr. La Forge said that just before the squadron began their flight around Titan, Wesley might have opened the coolant interlock on his ship to purge the plasma exhaust."

"Yes, but I thought that didn't have anything to do with their maneuvers," she said, a frown forming.

"With their planned maneuvers, no," he replied. "As I said earlier, a ship's coolant valve is normally only opened on the ground, by the maintenance crew. It's too dangerous to open in flight, because purging the exhaust can ignite the plasma trail behind the ship. And that's what got me thinking," he continued as the confusion on her face grew. "Because I remembered there is one flight maneuver that can only be performed with the coolant valve open."

"The Yeager Loop?" Beverly said, with a look that indicated her conviction that the answer was going to be negative.

"No," Picard confirmed. "A maneuver called the Kolvoord Starburst."

"Never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised," he said dryly. "It is a highly dangerous stunt that involves the timed ignition of the drive plasma trails in the wake of each ship in the squadron, creating a fiery starburst pattern. It was quite a spectacular sight, so I understand."

"Was?" she queried warily.

He nodded. "Yes. Starfleet banned the performance of the Kolvoord Starburst at the Academy over a hundred years ago, after all five of the cadets who attempted it were killed."

Beverly blanched, but to her credit made a quick attempt to rally. "So what does that have to do with Wesley?"

Picard unconsciously straightened his shoulders. "I believe Wesley and the other members of his squadron were practicing the Kolvoord Starburst maneuver when the accident that killed Cadet Albert occurred."

"Are you saying that my son lied about what happened?" Beverly's normally carefree voice was low and dangerous.

Jean-Luc chose his next words with great care. He would rather face a band of rampaging Klingons than provoke a fight with Beverly Crusher. "I am suggesting," he replied slowly, carefully, "that none of the members of Nova Squadron gave a complete account of their activities during that training exercise."

Beverly sat back in her chair. "Do you have any evidence to back up this theory of yours?"

He shook his head. "No. But it is the only explanation that fits all the facts."

She stared at him for a moment and then exhaled a bitter-sounding sigh, laced with frustration and disappointment. "And it also explains the conversation I just had with Wes. I went to tell him that I was going to talk to Admiral Brand about delaying the inquiry, and he told me flatly not to get involved. That he wanted to handle it on his own." Deflated, she ran a hand through her hair. "I wish he'd come to us first. But he's just as stubborn as his father used to be."

He couldn't imagine how distressing it must be for her to learn that her son was involved in performing a deadly, forbidden stunt that cost one of his teammates his life, and then covering up that fact before the board of inquiry. Yet she was squarely facing up to the difficult reality – just as she always did. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

"So what are you going to do now?" she inquired, breaking into his reverie. Her resigned, stoic look burned in his heart.

He tugged down on the hem of his uniform. "If none of the cadets come forward voluntarily, I have no choice but to report my findings to the board of inquiry. It will be up to them to decide how to proceed." He looked down at her, his eyes soft and kind. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I wanted to inform you before I took any further action." He exhaled a breath and moved to the door.

"Jean-Luc!" Beverly rose and crossed the room to stand beside him. "You will talk to Wesley before you go to Admiral Brand?" The look in her eyes was half expectation, half plea.

He nodded. "Of course. I'll arrange a meeting with him now." He laid a reassuring hand on her arm, hoping to offer a measure of comfort. "Wesley is a very fine young man. I have every confidence that he will ultimately do the right thing."

"I hope so," she replied with a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Jean-Luc could tell she was still reeling from the shock of what he'd just told her. He wished he could say something that would ease her mind about what was to come. His heart ached to see her so despondent.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc," she breathed. "If anyone can help Wesley now, it's you."

"I'll do my best," he promised, thinking that she had scant reason to be grateful to him. But he would speak to the young cadet and do his utmost to convince him to come forward with the truth.

#


	16. The Perfect Mate

Author's Note: The dialogue herein is from the episode by Gary Perconte and Michael Piller.

* * *

"Beverly. May I take the uniform off for a moment?"

_I wish you would._ The thought flickered through her mind before she could suppress it.

Beverly sighed internally. The spark of attraction – of desire – she felt for Jean-Luc was never entirely absent, only repressed. _Most of the time, anyway._

Even now, as they sat in her quarters decorously arranged across the table from one another with several meters of clear distance between them, she could sense it deep within her, smoldering within her core. _And Jean-Luc seems entirely oblivious to it._

Beyond their early encounter with that damned virus, he'd never given her any indication that he was remotely interested in her as a woman. Despite her teasing and her subtle hints, which somehow only seemed to discomfit him.

The only other time she'd been presented with an opening – that wonderful, terrible dinner and dance in his quarters – she'd turned him down, somehow sensing without knowing how that something was amiss. His interest had come so suddenly, so out of the blue. It had felt too good to be true – which, of course, it had been. Yet even then she'd been sorely tempted to allow their relationship to move to a more intimate level, and the revelation that 'her' Jean-Luc had been an imposter wounded her more deeply than she let on.

In fact, if it wasn't for the virus, and those few timeless, precious moments in the imposter Jean-Luc's arms, she might have wondered if the chemistry that she'd sensed between them from the moment they'd first met really existed at all.

But it was there. It was definitely there.

She couldn't be the only one who felt it, could she?

Her thumb rubbed nervously along the handle of her teacup. To cover her momentary disquietude she quirked her eyebrows and replied in a mock-shocked voice, "Captain…"

He had the grace to acknowledge his unintentional double entendre, offering a self-deprecating smile. "I need to talk to a friend," he clarified.

_A friend_.

Yes, she reminded herself, that was what they were to each other. And she truly did cherish the unique position, the unique place, she held in his life because of it. Besides Guinan she was the only person on the ship who knew him not just as Captain Picard, Starfleet legend, but as Jean-Luc Picard, the man. That had an intimacy all its own. And the thought of trying to reach for anything more was too risky, too fraught with potential heartbreak, to seriously contemplate at present. But there were certain times when she had to remind herself of that. Times like right now.

"Of course."

#


	17. The Inner Light

They entered the turbolift and she called out their destination. Glancing sidelong at Jean-Luc, Beverly could see that his gaze was clear and his pose strong and upright. To her relief he looked relatively unaffected by everything that had just taken place on the bridge.

She slipped the tricorder into the pocket of her lab coat and placed a hand lightly on his arm, just needing to feel him warm and _alive _beneath her touch. She'd come so close – altogether too close – to losing him this time.

Jean-Luc's eyes met his companion's. "What happened?" he asked, his voice subdued. After years spent under the warm, subtle rays of the sun, the artificial lights in the turbolift seemed unnaturally harsh and bright and he found he had to restrain himself from shielding his eyes against the glare.

Riker and the others had told Beverly the gist of it when she'd reached the bridge. "Do you remember the ship encountering a derelict space probe?"

_Yes, that sounds familiar_. He slowly nodded.

"Well, it wasn't derelict. Data said it hit you with a nucleonic beam," she continued. "The probe used it to make some sort of connection with you that overloaded your cerebral cortex. He said it was hundreds of years old, but wherever it was from it was very –"

"Kataan," he murmured.

"Pardon?"

"The planet – was called Kataan."

"Kataan," she echoed. Yes, that was the star system that Geordi had mentioned. "Anyway, it somehow took control of your mind. You were completely non-responsive and we couldn't find any way to revive you. You were like that for about twenty five minutes and then it just seemed to stop and let you go."

"And now I'm fine," he assured her in what he hoped was a persuasive tone. He _was_ fine, now that the dizzying sense of disorientation he'd felt on the bridge was fading. "There's no need to go to sickbay –"

She shook her head, hand tightening on his arm. "Jean-Luc, about ten minutes ago Data tried to reflect the beam away from you and back onto the probe. He succeeded, but –" She had to stop and take a slow, steadying breath before continuing.

"You underwent a massive somato-physical failure. We…nearly lost you." To Beverly's dismay she could hear her voice shaking as she said the words. But the enormity of what had just transpired was still far too fresh in her mind and heart to put behind her so easily. Especially that moment of raw, stark terror after the beam had been disrupted when she'd felt him slipping away from her and knew there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

But Jean-Luc was too preoccupied to register her rare show of emotion. Instead he was reveling in her light touch on his arm and desperately trying not to lose himself in her eyes. _Beverly_. He'd thought of her, dreamed of her, for years. Whenever he'd thought of the _Enterprise_, she was the first person who came to mind.

Managing to steady her voice Beverly added, "So I need to run a thorough check on you to make sure there aren't any residual problems."

Jean-Luc nodded absently, abandoning the argument as his thoughts drifted back to Kataan. For years he had charted the heavens, trying to determine the planet's location, trying to find a way to send a message that would reunite him with his ship and his crew. Until one day Eline had given him an ultimatum, and he'd finally, reluctantly relinquished his quest in order to focus on his life as Kamin.

And later, as the years went by and his family responsibilities grew, memories of his old life on the _Enterprise_ gradually receded into the recesses of his mind. But he'd never forgotten. Not completely. He'd never forgotten _her_.

Gazing at her tall, willowy figure now, he couldn't escape the irony that thanks to a probe from a thousand years in the past he'd just had everything with Eline that he'd always wanted with Beverly. A constant companion, a lover, a wife – someone who shared his life, who loved him unconditionally, and who remained by his side through good times and bad.

_Someone who – well, be that as it may. I am Jean-Luc Picard. I am captain of the Enterprise, and I'm back on my ship with my CMO and dearest friend. There is no place in the universe I'd rather be. And there is no one I'd rather be with._

#


	18. Rascals

Author's Note: The first line of dialogue is from the episode by Allison Hock.

* * *

"You are still Jean-Luc Picard," Beverly said quietly but firmly, her heart aching with sympathy for the man standing before her. "What do you think you should do?"

Jean-Luc exhaled a heavy sigh, his gaze still fixed on the stars beyond the viewport of his ready room. Finally he turned towards her. The look on his too-young face was as solemn, as stoic, as if he were facing a firing squad. "Very well. I'll ask Commander Riker to assume command."

Beverly nodded and suppressed a sigh of her own. In a way she'd almost hoped he'd fight her on it – give her an excuse to relieve him of duty so he wouldn't have to make the painful call himself. No one should have to make a decision like that.

But at the same time she'd known that he wouldn't. Jean-Luc would never take the coward's way out.

And there was now no question in her mind that the boyish Jean-Luc Picard standing before her retained all of his mental faculties and sense of responsibility intact. For the time being, at least.

"Just until we get this mess sorted out," he added forcefully, the sound of the high and reedy tenor voice – so different from his normal mellifluent baritone – still jarring to her ears.

She nodded again. "Only until we get you and the others back to normal," she agreed. As far as she was concerned that moment couldn't come soon enough. _And if that's how I'm feeling, just imagine how he feels…_

She shuddered. All those decades of experience, all of that accumulated wisdom, trapped inside a body younger than her own son. It didn't help that he was so cute, either – she kept having to clench her fists at her sides to quell the urge to reach out and ruffle his thick blond hair – yet also possessed of a solemn dignity that seemed wholly out of place in someone so young.

But of course he wasn't young. He just looked it.

_So young._

Even assuming there was no regression of his mental condition to match, what did Jean-Luc's new pre-pubescent physical state mean for his future on the ship, for his future in general? If his own bridge officers could barely take him seriously, what chance did he have with the rest of the crew? And even if Starfleet were to allow it, it would be impossible for him to remain at the helm when the Romulans, the Klingons – enemies and allies alike – would laugh themselves silly at the sight of an adolescent boy commanding the Federation flagship. His entire career would have to be placed on hold, at least until he grew another few inches. _And his voice broke_.

Beverly felt a mischievous smile curving her lips and fought to quash it. This was no time to tease him. Just because she could see the funny side to what had happened didn't mean that he would. And that was understandable enough_._ For what had begun as a curious, bizarre but still vaguely amusing event had rapidly progressed into a situation whose repercussions could change peoples lives forever. Not the least Jean-Luc's. And her own.

For what would this mean for their personal relationship? Perhaps their friendship could continue somehow if he were to remain on the ship. She could get used to the change, eventually, and surely he would too. But what if he decided to leave? What if he went back to Earth, or elsewhere? Would the bond they had been so carefully nurturing between them fragment with time and distance as he found new friends closer to his own physical age?

And what of her long term hopes for their relationship? Try as she might to ignore them, enjoying their increasingly close yet safely platonic association just the way it was now, she knew that deep down she continued to harbor occasional thoughts – fantasies – of the two of them together…

_Talk about robbing the cradle_, she mused sardonically. Any thoughts of romance were out the window as long as he remained this way.

_I swear to you, Jean-Luc, _she thought with a sudden, fierce resolve, _I will find a way to get you back to normal._

#


	19. Tapestry

Beverly finished the padd she was reading and set it down on her desk with a sigh. _Only four more reports to review. If only I could concentrate on them…_ She began to reach for another and stopped abruptly. Her hands were shaking and a lightheaded feeling washed over her, leaving a slightly wobbly sensation in its wake.

Lacing her fingers together she released a long, unsteady sigh and sat back in her chair, forcing herself to take one deep and calming breath, then another, and another. The reaction was setting in now – both physical and emotional. She didn't usually feel so traumatized even after handling the most difficult and demanding of medical crises, but this had been no ordinary calamity.

_He's fine_, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. _He's perfectly fine_.

_He's fine_.

Twenty minutes ago Jean-Luc hadn't been fine. He'd been laying on a biobed dying – dead – the bioregulator for his mechanical heart irreparably fused after having taken a direct blast with a terrion beam during a routine diplomatic mission to Lenaria. _What sort of security did they have down there, anyway_? she wondered irritably. _And what had Worf been doing?_ He was supposed to protect the captain at all times. _So much for having a Klingon warrior by your side._

She glanced up, scowling, as the sickbay door slid open to reveal the shapely figure of Deanna Troi. Beverly bit her lip and looked away. The empath was the last person on the ship she wanted to see right now.

"Hello, Beverly," her friend greeted her informally, a sure sign the Betazoid wanted to talk about what had just transpired. Or rather, her feelings about what had just transpired.

_I'm not ready. Not yet_.

She quickly slid her still trembling hands onto her lap, out of Deanna's line of sight as the counselor settled into one of the chairs facing the desk.

"I heard about what happened. Is the captain all right?"

Beverly lifted her gaze to Deanna's and nodded politely. "Yes." _He is now_. "He's been treated and released back to general duty."

One of Deanna's shapely eyebrows rose. "Released?" She frowned. "I thought he had been shot at point blank range."

"He had." Beverly felt the color drain from her face as she recalled staring down at the vivid scorch mark on his chest, her tricorder readings showing no respiration and no pulse as she and her team fought to stabilize his condition – a desperate, losing effort that couldn't have lasted more than a few moments but had felt like years. _He's fine_, she sternly reminded herself. "But Q fixed it all."

"So I understand. Still, it must have been a harrowing experience for you."

_Harrowing._ Yes, that was exactly what it had been. And Deanna obviously knew it.

Beverly clenched her jaw, annoyed at herself for not keeping her thoughts under better control. Normally she was better at concealing her emotions than this. She shrugged, hoping it looked natural. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't have been the first time I lost a patient." _Or the first time I lost someone I – care about._

For this hadn't been just any patient. This had been Jean-Luc. He'd nearly died under her hands and only the whim of a capricious child with god-like powers had brought him back.

She hoped that Q never discovered how grateful she was feeling towards him right now.

Because she knew if she had lost Jean-Luc like that – on her biobed, in her sickbay – although she would have done her best to carry on, honoring his memory by continuing her work as he would want her to do, practicing medicine would never again have brought her any joy.

She shuddered, her eyes slipping closed as she tried to banish the thought.

"Beverly?" she heard Deanna say in a voice colored with concern.

She forced her eyes open, forced her mind to focus on the here and now. _He's fine_.

"Doctor Crusher?" Nurse Ogawa poked her head around the door. She glanced apologetically at Troi and said to Beverly, "You asked me to let you know when Ensign Slovich regained consciousness. He's just starting to come around now."

_Saved by Ensign Slovich_, Beverly thought, unable to disguise her relief. "Thanks, Alyssa," she replied. "I'll be right there." She quickly rose and rounded her desk.

Deanna rose as well, disappointment written clearly on her face.

"I'm sorry, Deanna," Beverly said as the two women exited her office together. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her lab coat for her tricorder. "I have to get back to work. Not all of my patients from the Lenaria mission were as lucky as Jean-Luc."

The counselor nodded reluctantly. "Very well. But I'll see you later, all right?"

Beverly nodded absently, her mind already turning to her patient as Deanna departed. But as she crossed the room she couldn't help glancing towards the biobed in the center, now standing empty and unused. There was no sign of the frantic activity that had taken place around it such a short time ago. The medical team had moved on. _Life has moved on._

It was a soothing thought.

The reaction she had experienced in her office was fading now, she was feeling stronger, more composed. More alive, even.

Beverly squared her shoulders and strode to Ensign Slovich's bedside, ready to begin her scans. Deanna didn't need to worry about her. He had survived – _they_ had survived. Jean-Luc was fine.

And as long as he was fine, so was she.

#


	20. Lessons

Beverly eyed her breakfast companion with ill-concealed irritation. After three weeks of hardly seeing him at all – intentionally on her part, it must be admitted – Jean-Luc had unexpectedly invited himself to breakfast in her quarters, and then he'd barely said two words to her all morning. She was still tired from handling the deluge of casualties from yesterday's collapse of the mine on Deneb V, and could have used the extra time this morning to catch up on her sleep instead of sitting here watching him push his food around his plate.

She took a last bite of pancake and was just about to pointedly excuse herself when he spoke.

"Lieutenant Commander Daren left the ship at Starbase 61."

_When we stopped there three days ago._ _Oh_. The bubble of emotion that welled up in her chest caught her unawares. She chewed slowly, struggling to prevent any sign of the relief and joy that was suddenly washing over her from reaching her face. _Has she left for good, then?_ The note of finality – of resignation – in his voice, suggested so. She swallowed and gingerly inquired, "Transferred?"

"Yes. To the _Isaac Newton_."

The wave surged higher and she fought it down. "I see." _Except I don't. Why didn't Deanna tell me?_ _Maybe she didn't know, either… I wonder what happened. _She sipped her coffee and patted her lips with her napkin, waiting – hoping – for him to elaborate.

He didn't.

"I'm sorry," she said into the yawning chasm of silence that had suddenly opened between them. "I know the two of you were…close."

_Close._ Yes, Jean-Luc and Nella Daren had been close, all right. How close, she really didn't want to think about. Although deep in her heart she knew.

And to all outward appearances things had been going well between the two of them. They seemed to spend all their free time in each other's company, and were often seen together at concerts and ship-wide events. Deanna had even told her a rumor they'd been heard playing duets in the Jefferies tubes.

Yet it was over between them now. Beverly suppressed the desire to sigh in release, as she suddenly felt lighter than she had in weeks. _She_ was gone, and he was back here where he –

_Back here._ Three days after his lover had left him he was having breakfast with another woman? _What am I, the rebound? _Instantly her sense of relief evaporated in a flash of righteous anger.

Yet she knew at once that wasn't fair. Jean-Luc wasn't sitting here at her table looking for romance, but for commiseration and companionship while he came to grips with his loss. How was he to know that the person he'd chosen to come to was someone who was having trouble mustering any sympathy, and who didn't want to hear the details of what had happened because she sometimes couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have what Nella Daren had.

_Dear lord this is awkward. Why couldn't he have gone to Deanna instead?_

Jean-Luc still sat staring at his plate, enshrouded in that singular stillness that he sometimes wore like a cloak, protective and impenetrable to even the most solicitous inquiry.

_He looks so forlorn. Whatever did happen, he doesn't deserve this._

"I am sorry, Jean-Luc," she repeated finally, certain this time that there was at least some truth in the statement. However secretly relieved she might be feeling about the situation, she was also sad to see him so obviously suffering.

His eyes lifted to met hers and he shook his head. The strained expression on his face told her as clearly as if she were reading the words on a page that he was growing just as uncomfortable as she was. And was beginning to regret that he'd come.

Sure enough, his next words were, "It is I who should apologize. I thought I could…" His voice trailed off in a low sigh. "But I'm not fit company this morning and I shouldn't have come."

It was a startling admission from such a reticent man, and she watched in growing dismay as he set his napkin on the table and started to rise. In another moment he would be gone. And if he went now…somehow she knew that their mornings of easy camaraderie and gentle friendship would be over forever.

Well, she wasn't about to let that happen. These breakfasts were – he was – far too important to her. She set down her own napkin and leaned forward. "Jean-Luc, wait. I know you're having a hard time right now…ending a relationship is a painful experience for anyone. Even a starship captain." She gave him a wry smile and was relieved to see a flash of response in his eyes as he settled back into his chair. "But I'm glad you came…"

She extended her hand along the table in his direction, open, inviting. He gazed down at her outstretched palm and, after a brief hesitation, placed his fingers lightly in her own.

Beverly curled her fingers around his, trying to ignore the warm rush that surged through her at the touch. She so rarely reached out to him like this, afraid it would lead her to want more. "I want you to know I'm here for you, Jean-Luc," she whispered softly, echoing words that he'd spoken to her not so very long ago, after her own heart had been broken… _I remember how it feels, and no matter how I felt about you and Nella, I won't let you hide away and lick your wounds alone_. "I know it's hard now – but it will get easier. You just have to give it time."

She squeezed the hand she held, gently, in a silent gesture of comfort and support. Wishing she dared risk doing more. "And in the meantime you need to lean on the people who care about you. So I'm glad you came this morning. You're welcome any time, I hope you know that," she added on impulse, then winced internally, hoping he wouldn't be put off by the unintended innuendo in her ill-conceived choice of words.

But he smiled a little and his fingers tightened their grip on hers. "Thank you, Beverly. That means a great deal to me."

_To me too_, she thought. _I'm glad you're back here with me._ _I've missed you, Jean-Luc. More than you know._

#


	21. Suspicions

Author's Note: The dialogue herein was written by Joe Menosky and Naren Shankar. I'm just filling in the things they _didn't_ say.

* * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat on the bridge of the _Enterprise_, trying not to brood. Like Commander Riker, Counselor Troi and everyone else on the senior staff, he was worried about his CMO. Beverly's crusade to solve the mystery of the Ferengi scientist Dr. Reyga's death had led her to step well beyond the bounds of Starfleet regulations. Ever since they had found the astrophysicist's body it was as if she had been on a one-woman crusade to discover what had happened.

_No matter the cost_.

He was far less concerned about her failure to obey his direct orders yesterday than about the effect the formal complaint lodged against her actions by the Ferengi government was going to have on her career. Starfleet Medical was not going to look kindly on her activities, and even marshaling all the influence he possessed with the Admiralty might not be enough to salvage her position. _It's going to take a –_

"Captain," Data spoke from the ops console, interrupting his thoughts, "an unscheduled launch is taking place in shuttle bay two."

Picard looked inquiringly at his first officer.

"No idea," Riker said. "No one's filed a flight plan."

"On screen." He looked up to see a shuttle speeding away from the _Enterprise_ and towards the star located off the starboard side of the ship.

"That's the _Justman_,"Riker noted. "The shuttle Reyga modified."

"Open a hailing frequency," Picard ordered.

Worf complied. Picard drew in a breath of surprise when the determined features of Beverly Crusher appeared on the screen.

"Doctor Crusher, what do you think you're doing?" he inquired with what he thought was admirable calmness and restraint, given the situation.

"Testing a theory, Captain," she replied tersely, her eyes fixed on the controls before her.

"A theory?"

"I think Doctor Reyga's shield _does_ work."

_She's not thinking of_ – Picard rose to his feet. "Return to the ship immediately," he commanded.

He watched as Beverly dropped her eyes from the screen, then sighed. "I'm sorry." She made no move to comply with his directive.

Tense moments passed as his bridge team tried unsuccessfully to bring their errant colleague back, unable either to override the shuttle's computer or to recapture the craft by tractor beam. Finally Data's emotionless voice reported, "She is headed into the sun's corona."

Picard felt as though he had just been kicked in the chest. He wanted to shout at her, berate her. What did she think she was doing, going out there alone like this?

_Why didn't she come to me first?_

Deep in his heart he knew why. Beverly was already suspended from active duty, and her current actions were in direct violation of Starfleet directives. Anyone attempting to assist her in those activities would also be in violation and subject to the same disciplinary measures. His throat tightened with the understanding that she would not risk compromising him in any way.

And now she might pay for that decision with her life.

Her efforts at interstellar scientific diplomacy had already come at a very high cost. The first test of the metaphasic shield had ended the life of the Takaran scientist Jo'Bril, and then Doctor Reyga himself had perished before making any further modifications to the prototype. What evidence did she have that the shield had only failed because of an act of sabotage? "You're betting your life on a hypothesis!" he exclaimed, trying with growing desperation to dissuade her from her course.

Her answer was firm, resolute. "I'm not wrong."

Picard hoped more fervently than he had hoped for anything in his life that she wasn't – that whatever she'd discovered about the shield's operation in her investigations was solid enough to minimize the terrible risk she was taking. But as the shuttle continued its plunge into the sun's fiery corona, his concern intensified. "Beverly, what's happening?"

"I'm all right."

The calmness in her voice reassured him and he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. His emotions settled as the _Enterprise's_ monitors indicated the temperature outside the shuttle increasing to lethal levels – and yet the shield held. This time, the experiment had worked.

"Congratulations, Doctor Reyga, you did it," the Beverly on the screen exclaimed rhetorically. Picard could still hear her clearly, but the interference on the video link was growing worse. "Captain, I want you to post security guards around the three visiting scientists. One of them has to be responsible for sabotaging the first test. I think if we –"

There was a blip, and suddenly the screen went blank. An alarm sounded.

"Sir." He turned anxiously to Worf. "We have lost contact."

_Beverly!_ _What's happening? _Picard felt an electric jolt of shock and dismay at the unexpected turn of events. The metaphasic shield had held, yet clearly something had gone very wrong.

"Captain," Data said, "There is no indication of debris. However, the subspace signal indicates a warp engine breech."

_No! _An explosion of searing pain burned through his chest. After years of experience in deep space his heart grasped the implications instantly. A warp engine breech meant the shuttle had exploded. And if the shuttle had exploded…there was no chance Beverly could have survived.

Picard found himself pacing back and forth across the bridge before he'd even realized he'd moved. _No, she can't be…she can't be. I have to know what happened_. "Alright. Begin a phase one search," he ordered. "Start with the shuttlecraft's last known coordinates. Plot a proximity course towards the star."

_There was no debris_. He held on to that observation like a lifeline. Until he saw the evidence of her death first hand he would not have to bring himself to face the fact that he'd lost another Crusher under his command.

Another friend he loved.

_Beverly._

Nearly losing Nella a few short weeks ago had been heartbreaking, but that anguish was nothing compared to the thought that Beverly might be dead. The pain of that loss would be unbearable.

Seconds seemed to lengthen into hours as he waited for the _Enterprise_ to enter the star's gaseous environs. He was striding back to his chair in frustration when Worf said, "Sir! We are picking up an object emerging from the corona."

A second later the video connection sprang back into life. "Crusher to _Enterprise_," his disheveled but triumphant-looking CMO called. "I'm all right. Returning to the ship. And I finally have the answers I've been looking for."

_She's survived!_ Picard felt his body flood with relief as his heart began to beat again. He drifted towards the viewscreen as though the motion could bring her that much closer to safety, to home. Despite standing in full view of his bridge officers, Picard allowed himself a smile and exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

_She's done it. Everything is going to be all right._

#


	22. Suspicions bonus scene

Jean-Luc met her in the shuttle bay, waiting for her as she disembarked.

"You disobeyed a direct order, Commander," he said peremptorily, addressing her by her rank rather than her title. Standing stern and forbidding, he was every inch her commanding officer.

Beverly drew herself up before him. "Two orders, sir," an impish rogue of devilry within her prompted her to reply, although she said it without any trace of humor so he would understand she was fully aware of the seriousness of what she'd done.

His frown deepened. "Two orders," he echoed. Then the glittering hazel eyes softened fractionally. "More importantly, I nearly lost a valued member of my crew."

Had she imagined it, or had his voice just then sounded a little deeper, a little rougher, than it had before? "I'm sorry, Captain," she replied formally. She knew there was no going back from what she had done. His orders had been very clear, and she had disobeyed them. Repeatedly. She had let him down, and for that he needed to know that she was truly sorry.

"So am I, Doctor. You placed yourself in great danger and put me in a very difficult position." The words were those of a superior officer, but the pained look on his face was that of a friend.

"I understand, sir. My resignation will be on your desk within the hour." That would at least spare him from having to bring her up on charges of insubordination on top of everything else. She drew in a deep breath, gazing around her. She was going to miss the _Enterprise_, there was no question of that. She'd miss her friends among the command staff, her colleagues in sickbay, the adventures, the medical challenges – and the man standing before her most of all.

The one great benefit of having focused on the mystery of Dr. Reyga's death for the past few days was that she hadn't had any time to dwell on the gaping hole that Jean-Luc's absence was going to leave in her life. Or on everything that he had come to mean to her. Yes, it was good she hadn't had time to dwell on that at all.

But she didn't regret what she'd done. She had uncovered a murderer and righted a terrible wrong, and now at least could once again look Jean-Luc in the eye. She could leave the ship with her head held high. It had been worth it for that.

And at least she was already packed.

Much to her surprise the captain shook his head. "There will be no charges pending against your record, Doctor, and no talk of resignation. But understand –" he held up a warning finger, "if I thought you had done this for personal gain, or to prove a point, you would not be remaining on this ship."

Beverly stared at him. _Remaining…_ "Then –" her voice trailed off uncertainly. Could she really stay?

"Go get cleaned up, Beverly. I'll send a report to Starfleet Medical and see to it that you're reinstated as soon as possible." He nodded his dismissal and started towards the turbolift.

Beverly stared after his retreating back. Despite everything that had happened – _you disobeyed a direct order_ – he was still willing to let her stay. Relief and gratitude flooded her heart. But then her conscience prodded her. "Jean-Luc!"

He arrested his steps at her call, waiting as she hurried to catch up with him.

As she drew near she took a deep breath. With Guinan's help she'd reaffirmed something vital about herself today – that she wouldn't shrink from searching out the truth, wherever it led and whatever the personal consequences might be. "I appreciate your faith in me, Captain," she told him formally, sincerely. "But you need to know that I can't promise something like this won't happen again."

He held her gaze for a long moment and then gave a sharp nod. "Understood."

Beverly was incredulous. "You say that and yet you're still willing to have me back?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

His gaze softened. "Because some people are irreplaceable."

Beverly frowned. "Are you saying that personally, or are you saying that professionally?" she asked. She wasn't trying to commit career suicide, really, but Jean-Luc was her dear friend as well as her CO, and she needed to be absolutely sure he was making this decision for the right reasons.

"Both."

_Oh_. She hadn't expected _that_ answer to her question. And now that she had it she wasn't sure what to say. To deflect the deepening intensity of the moment she took refuge in humor – an easy reach, as now that she knew she was staying she felt more lighthearted than she had in days. "Is that an admission you're fallible, Captain?" she gently teased.

But he refused to rise to the bait. "We're all fallible, Doctor. No one can predict every possible outcome or prepare for every eventuality. But as the captain of this ship, I trust in the team that I've assembled."

"Always?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

He nodded solemnly. "Always."

#


	23. Descent

Beverly Crusher stood in the captain's ready room, completing her report on the events that had transpired during her command of the _Enterprise_ while the rest of the senior staff was away rescuing Commander Data from the clutches of his 'brother' Lore.

The captain followed her words attentively as she struggled through her tiredness to string a final few coherent sentences together. She'd been on duty now for 18 hours straight, and while it wasn't unusual for her to pull such long shifts in sickbay, today she'd been responsible for the welfare of the entire ship and its thousand-strong crew and it had been touch and go there for a while whether she would be able to bring them through.

It was at times like these she was reminded that such a stressful responsibility – which came complete with its very own brand of exhaustion – was an immensely heavy burden. One that Jean-Luc shouldered every day of his life.

Not for the first time, she wondered how he did it.

At the moment he looked as tired as she felt. But his back was still ramrod straight as he stood behind his desk. He glanced around the room and back to her as she finished her account. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, his voice formal but warm. "I appreciate you returning my ship in the condition in which you found it."

Beverly stared at him, her mouth dropping open in shock. She'd managed to save the _Enterprise_ from annihilation and destroy an entire Borg ship while he was gone and that was all the thanks she got? _Why, you ungrateful_ –

Then she caught sight of the glint in his hazel eyes and the penny dropped. Jean-Luc Picard was teasing _her_? As far as she was concerned that went against the natural order of the universe. Still, she couldn't help the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It was the least I could do, Captain," she replied casually, playing along.

He dropped the pose, his expression taking on his usual more serious mien. "It was truly exemplary work, Commander," he said, emphasizing her command rank. "I'm placing my recommendation for a commendation in your file."

For a moment the fog of fatigue lifted and was replaced by a deep sense of pride. A field commendation in her official record would be of great value if she ever decided to pursue her own command. But far more meaningful than that was the gratification she took from the knowledge that she'd repaid Jean-Luc's faith in her leadership abilities.

"That's all, Doctor, you're dismissed," he said next, to her relief. "I would order you to your quarters to get some rest, but I imagine you'll want to check in with sickbay before you go off duty."

She nodded. "Yes, thank you, sir." _How well he knows me_, she reflected. As tired as she was, she couldn't rest until she heard the reports from her own staff and was reassured that all was well. She started for the door. "Will I see you for breakfast in the morning?" she asked hopefully over her shoulder. "0700 hours?"

He smiled. "Make it 0630 and you have a deal."

#


	24. Gambit

Jean-Luc Picard sat in his quarters reviewing the acting-captain's log reports from the past few days. A long night's sleep in his own bed, a shave and a crisp, fresh uniform had helped to erase the lingering traces of Galen the smuggler from his persona, but his days away on the aliens' ship had left the captain of the _Enterprise_ with a lot of catching up to do.

The door announcer chimed. "Come," he called absently.

The door hissed open and he looked up to see Beverly Crusher stride briskly into the room. His heart filled with pleasure. Aside from those few brief seconds in the cargo bay hold, he hadn't seen her since he'd left for the archeological dig and found he'd missed her far more than he felt comfortable admitting.

He opened his mouth to greet her, but one look at the intent, severe look on her face had him tossing the padd in his hand aside and leaping to his feet. This clearly wasn't a social call.

She marched straight up to him, fiery and resplendent in her blue lab coat. Almost without pausing she threw her arms around his neck and drew him to her in a fierce hug. His arms went around her without hesitation, gratefully holding her warm, lithe body tight against his own. For a moment her head tilted to rest against his and a small sigh escaped her. Then with a final sharp squeeze she let him go and stepped back.

"Jean-Luc Picard, what in the hell got into you?" she demanded before he could take a breath to speak. "I can't believe you of all people got into a fight in a bar. You could have been killed – you don't know how lucky you are that you were shot with a transporter beam instead of a disrupter beam. You're a Starfleet captain, and your primary responsibility is to this ship and this crew. It was unconscionable of you to put your life at risk like that."

She crossed her arms, radiating displeasure like a star going nova. "Normally it would be your first officer reminding you of all this, but right now I think Will's rather too pleased with his own part in your little charade." The final word was emphasized with undisguised irritation.

She exhaled and ran a hand through her hair, raising pained eyes to his. "You scared the hell out of us, Jean-Luc," she finished quietly.

The unexpected admission shook him to his core. She was right. He had behaved irresponsibly. He'd put his life in jeopardy. To be fair, when he signed on with the thieves after the bar fight he hadn't known that the evidence left behind was going to indicate that he'd been killed, but he also hadn't stopped to consider what effect his sudden disappearance might have on his crew. For the past few days his entire command staff – including Beverly – had thought he was dead. That couldn't have been easy on any of them.

He gazed more closely at the woman standing before him, taking in her pale, pinched face, the dark lavender smudges that marred the skin just above her cheekbones, the slightly haunted look in her eyes. No, it hadn't been easy on her at all.

He reached out and gripped her forearm briefly, not attempting to hide his remorse. "You're right. It was an error of judgment on my part," he admitted, his voice resonating with sincerity. "I'm sorry."

She nodded but the tense slant of her shoulders didn't shift.

He continued, lifting his tone a fraction in hopes of lightening the mood, "I promise that the next time I uncover a plot to steal precious Vulcan artifacts I won't confront the suspects in a spaceport bar."

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "At least not without backup."

Jean-Luc smiled, recognizing that he was, after all, forgiven. "Agreed." He watched with relief as Beverly's blue eyes brightened, the storm clouds leaving them. He rubbed his hands together briskly. "Now, have you had breakfast?"

"Not yet."

Jean-Luc's smile broadened. "Good." He gave his best friend's arm a gentle squeeze and headed towards the replicator. "Tea and croissants, coming up."

#


	25. Lower Decks

Author's Note: "Attached" and "Sub Rosa" are obviously two pivotal P/C episodes, but since I have already written about them elsewhere the next short scene in this story is set at the end of "Lower Decks". This one is for Kallie49.

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard sat in his darkened quarters watching the stars streak by outside his viewport. The ship was at warp four, heading away from the Argaya System and back on its previous course to Tusecan.

In the stillness he could feel the slight vibration of the ship beneath his feet. On most nights he found the sensation soothing. But tonight it only served as a reminder of just how many crewmembers lived and worked within its confines. So many people under his command, so many lives in his hands. So much faith and trust placed in him.

Ensign Sito had volunteered for the assignment to masquerade as a prisoner and help return the Federation double agent to Cardassian space. Had seemed willing, if not eager, to go out and prove herself on such a treacherous mission. Nonetheless…had he adequately warned her about the dangers? Had he done enough to explore possible alternative mission scenarios, to evaluate and minimize the risks involved?

His chest constricted at the thought that there might have been something he could have done differently, something vital that could have saved her life, even though right now he had no idea what it might be. He knew better than anyone that he wasn't perfect, that despite his best efforts his altogether too human failings did occasionally lead to mistakes. And the mistakes he made in his position usually resulted in adverse consequences not for himself but for someone else.

Someone like a promising Bajoran ensign at the very outset of her Starfleet career.

With every breath he drew he did his utmost to be worthy of the confidence that she and the other men and women under his command placed in him. Still, on nights like these the burden of that life and death responsibility lay heavily on his shoulders.

He sighed, feeling restless, and glanced down at the bottle of Chateau Picard '68 Merlot and two glasses sitting out on the coffee table before him. Waiting, as he was waiting. It was very late, but she would come. He knew she would never let him down. Especially not about this.

At that moment the door announcer chimed.

"Come," he said softly.

The door slid open and she entered without a word. Despite the dimness of the ambient light she made her way unerringly across the room to the seating area.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," she said quietly as she sank into the cushions of the chair opposite his. "But just as I was leaving Crewman Droha started to come out of his coma. It looks like he's going to be fine after all."

"Well, that's something, anyway," he murmured, grateful for her small but comforting gift of good news. He watched with appreciation as she slipped out of her flats and drew her long legs up beneath her on the cushions in one fluid, graceful movement. No matter how mournful his mood, the simple fact of her presence never failed to cheer him.

Leaning forward, he expertly popped the cork from the bottle and poured a generous quantity of wine into each of the two glasses. Handed one to his companion and held up the other by the stem. In his mind's eye he could see the young Bajoran standing before him in his ready room, her demeanor keen, determined and proud as she met the challenges he'd laid out for her. She would have become a very fine senior officer. "To Ensign Sito."

He took a long swallow of wine and leaned back, lowering his glass. The rim caught the soft light of the stars, reflecting it back across the room in sparkling shards.

"Ensign Sito," Beverly echoed. As she drank the toast her sapphire blue eyes met his, glittering with sadness, regret – and understanding.

For she too knew what it was like to hold the lives of others in the palm of her hand.

He held her sympathetic gaze for a moment, allowing its warmth to seep into his soul, and then looked away as the melancholy pulled at him again.

Tonight another bright young life that had been placed in his care was gone. Just like Jack was gone. And Walker. And Tasha Yar, and so many, many others.

Yet _she_ was here.

The dull, tight ache in his chest loosened just a bit at the thought.

Together they sipped their wine and silently gazed out the viewport as the _Enterprise_ continued on its journey across the stars.

#


	26. All Good Things I

Beverly Crusher slowly stood as around her the other senior officers rose from the table and began to file out of the observation lounge. The revelations that Jean-Luc had just told them all about his peek twenty five years into a possible future courtesy of Q had been sobering for all of them, not least herself.

It had been remarkable to learn that in that future she had been serving on the first of an entirely new class of Starfleet medical ships, the _Pasteur_. She'd had her own command. Yet even as she marveled at these unexpected revelations, one fact stood out in stark relief.

Jean-Luc had been back on Earth.

The thought of it was so strange, so foreign, that she couldn't help but wonder what had happened in that timeline. Somehow, she'd always thought – always assumed – that they would remain together.

_But 25 years is a long time_, she mused. _A lot of things could happen_.

The captain's voice broke into her reverie. "Doctor, may I speak with you for a moment?"

She smiled at him and hung back as the last of her colleagues made their way out the door. "Of course."

He rose and rounded the table to draw close to her. "Have you ever had occasion to perform a level four neurographic scan of my brain?"

She frowned. "No. Why?" _Where is this coming from? _she wondered, a vague unease rising in her stomach.

Uncharacteristically he hesitated. "In the alternate timeline," he paused again and ran a hand over the greying fringe at the back of his head, "I was afflicted with a condition called Irumodic Syndrome. It was caused by an –"

"An abnormality in the parietal lobe," Beverly finished for him softly.

He gazed at her, pain lurking in his hazel eyes. "Yes."

Now the pieces easily fell into place. "And you want to know if you have that same abnormality in this timeline."

He nodded.

_Irumodic Syndrome. Jean-Luc_. _No_. The very idea that such a brilliant man could be robbed of his mind by a debilitating neurological disorder like IS sent an icy chill of horror down her spine. It was one of the 24th century's most dreaded diseases, that over time turned the sufferer's friends and loved ones into virtual strangers as the syndrome literally ate away at the brain's synaptic centers of self and memory.

It was no wonder he hadn't shared that particular revelation with the others.

Beverly set her jaw, finding it difficult to try to force her mind away from the possible implications and onto the practicalities of the here and now. "Well, a level four neurographic scan is very detailed and it takes a few hours to process all the data. We've never had reason to perform one – until now," she added meaningfully.

Jean-Luc nodded again. "I would like to schedule one within the next few days if possible, Doctor," he said. "Not necessarily right away, it isn't urgent."

"Why don't we do it now," she offered. It was late, and she had an early shift tomorrow, but this was too important to put off until a gap in their busy schedules happened to open.

He shook his head. "Not necessary, Doctor," he replied. "Thank you, but tomorrow or even the day after will be fine. As I said, it's not urgent."

She stared at him. _Not urgent_. Discovering whether he had a brain abnormality that could cause a life-altering and ultimately fatal disease wasn't urgent. _It is to me_. And as she gazed more closely into his eyes, she could see within them the anxiety that gave lie to his words. He was concerned. Worried, even. But as always he was being considerate of her time and other responsibilities.

_Well, I'm not having it. Not this time_. For reasons she refused to allow herself to examine too closely, finding out the truth was almost as important to her as it was to him. Knowing it would either bring them peace of mind, or else they would learn the worst and begin to deal with it.

"Let's do it now, Jean-Luc," she said in a tone that brooked no further argument. "You'll feel better. And so will I."

#


	27. All Good Things II

My apologies for the long wait between chapters. I hope this makes it worthwhile…

* * *

Beverly sat at her desk, waiting. Although it was far into the night now and the urge to sleep was a growing, gnawing irritation, she resolutely pushed it away. She'd completed Jean-Luc's neurographic scan and sent him to his quarters several hours previously, but there was no way she could sleep herself without knowing whether he was going to be…well, without knowing.

Finally her terminal beeped. The computer's analysis was complete.

Beverly drew in a deep breath, steeling herself, opened the file and began to review the data.

A few moments later she knew. Her breath caught and her eyes pooled with tears. One hand rose to her mouth, instinctively, viscerally, then slowly dropped to her chest. She pressed her communicator with shaking fingers.

"Crusher to Picard."

The response was instantaneous. "Picard here."

"You're fine, Jean-Luc. There's no sign of an abnormality. You're fine."

There was a long moment of silence, then: "Thank you, Doctor."

The words were calm, unruffled, but she could hear the relief in his voice as palpably as if she was standing right beside him. Her lips curled in an answering smile as relief welled up within her own chest. "You're very welcome. Crusher out."

Beverly leaned back again in her chair, feeling lightheaded, and reminded herself sternly to breathe.

Jean-Luc was not going to contract Irumodic Syndrome. The future that Q showed him wouldn't come to pass. And if not having her own ship or her own command was the toll the universe exacted in return, then it was a price she was more than happy to pay.

For the only future that she would find unbearable was one without the presence of Jean-Luc Picard in it.

* * *

The captain of the _Enterprise_ was lost in thought when the announcer chime sounded. "Come."

The door slid open. Beverly, still clad in uniform and lab coat, strode purposefully across the ready room and halted before his desk, crossing her arms. She was not smiling. "I thought so."

His eyebrows rose. This was an unorthodox greeting even for his CMO. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's nearly 0300. You should be in bed."

Jean-Luc sighed and sat back in his chair, rolling some of the tension from his shoulders and giving her a reluctant nod. "You're right. But, well – I can't seem to stop thinking about the future Q showed me. I keep going back over various moments…trying to understand what led to the fates I saw. Deanna's death, Worf's estrangement…" His voice trailed off.

In truth he had been thinking about other things from that future scenario as well. Despite being as tired, drained, from the time travel as still he was, both physically and mentally – or perhaps because of it – he was unable to stop himself from dwelling on how his relationship with Beverly had played out in that timeline. That at some point, the two of them had finally acted on their long-buried feelings and taken concrete steps to be together.

He understood her fears about the risks of pursuing a romantic relationship – even shared them, to an extent. Where their opinions seemed to differ, in the aftermath of their Kesprytt experience, was in whether or not it was worthwhile to accept the risks regardless of those fears. In his mind there was no question: however their association might ultimately end – by divorce, or even by death – their time together would make the subsequent loss endurable.

Beverly, it seemed, didn't agree.

"But you know you don't have the neurologic defect," Beverly objected, sympathy in her warm blue eyes. "You already know that future isn't going to happen."

He nodded. Monumentally relieved on the one hand, yet still imbued with a vague sense of melancholy at the thought. "I know."

Beverly, characteristically, picked up on the slight deflation of his mood straight away. Her eyes narrowed as she shrewdly regarded his expression. "Does that bother you?"

"A little," he admitted.

Astonishment registered on Beverly's face. No doubt she had thought he'd be ecstatic that he had no reason to fear contracting Irumodic Syndrome. "Why?" she queried, eyebrows raised.

_Because you came here and told me the news, and then you kissed me. Because we were married_. He squeezed his eyes shut to banish the memories. He wouldn't – couldn't – think about them now.

"Jean-Luc?" She was gazing at him closely, a quizzical look on her face.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or perhaps the relief at being free of the abnormality had relaxed his normally iron self-control. But before his mind could stop his lips from forming the words he heard himself say, "We were married."

She gasped. "What?!"

"In the future Q showed me. And divorced," he forced himself to add in the interest of full disclosure. Now that it had spilled out she deserved to know the whole truth.

Beverly stood frozen, rooted to the spot in shock, staring at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted wings.

_For once I've rendered her speechless_, he noted almost abstractedly.

"Divorced – why?"

He shook his head in vexation. "I don't know. It was all quite confusing, between the abrupt jumps in time and the IS symptoms. The details were hazy. I know it had been some years since we…parted, and all I could remember clearly was that it had been a very difficult, painful time. For both of us." His eyes, calm now, met hers openly. "But I do know that even though we _were_ divorced, the separation between us had been worth it for the time we'd spent together."

He watched her closely as he spoke the words, feeling a swift, fierce relief wash over him as she slowly nodded in response. She understood what he was trying to say – that the fact they had divorced hadn't meant that their marriage had been a mistake. That whatever happened to cause them to grow apart…unfathomable as it was…

"I can't imagine ever divorcing you." Once again the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Immediately Beverly's face closed and she swallowed uncomfortably and looked down, gazing at the carpeting between them with sudden and intense fascination.

Jean-Luc castigated himself for his second momentary loss of control. How had he let yet another charged remark like that slip past his defenses? He was just about to blame his lapse on lack of sleep, on his residual fatigue from the time travel, when she suddenly said quietly, without looking up, "I can't imagine divorcing you, either."

For a long moment the words hung in the air like smoke.

Beverly's head lifted and their eyes met. Locked.

_Does that mean you've thought about it?_ Jean-Luc wondered as he held her steady gaze, his heart beating a shade faster than it had before. _Our being a couple? Being – married?_

He had. For years and years, ever since she'd joined the _Enterprise_ at Farpoint Station and made it clear that she wanted him back in her life. He'd imagined it, dreamed about it, wanted it more than anything else in the universe. As he contemplated the tantalizing idea that Beverly might also have thought about their being together, he felt a smile stealing across his face that, tired as he was, he found he couldn't quite suppress.

An answering smile lifted Beverly's lips – warm, secretive, almost shy.

Jean-Luc rose and slowly rounded his desk. They hadn't come this close to acknowledging the deeper emotions between them since Kesprytt. And although there was much more to discuss, his instincts were telling him it was more important right now to show Beverly that his feelings for her hadn't changed. Hopefully without being so forward as to cause her to withdraw from him again.

Heart in his mouth, he stopped before her, emboldened when she didn't back away. Leaning in he pressed a deliberate, infinitely gentle kiss to her cheek. The momentary feel of her warm and creamy skin against his lips sent a thrill through them both.

They drew back, swaying slightly.

Beverly's clear blue eyes met his and Jean-Luc felt his breath catch in his throat. Her heart was right there in her gaze. And after having once been telepathically linked to her he knew wasn't mistaking the depths of emotion he saw within them.

Perhaps it was due to the lateness of the hour, or to her relief that he didn't face a future with IS. But this time, she wasn't pushing him away.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be here," he murmured, his pulse racing, almost overcome by what she was silently but unequivocally choosing to communicate. She was finally willing to acknowledge that his feelings were reciprocated… His heart lifted, buoyed within him by the realization, until he almost felt as if he was floating.

Beverly nodded. "I just need a little more time," she replied in a near whisper.

He nodded in response, not trusting his voice, and watched in silence as she drifted towards the door, then paused and turned to gaze at him over her shoulder. The softness in her expression faded. "Now get some rest. That's an order."

Jean-Luc held up his hands in surrender, his smile wry. "Yes, sir."

She gave him a tiny smile, and reached up almost unconsciously to touch the place on her cheek where his lips had rested. "Goodnight, Jean-Luc."

"Goodnight." _My love. I hope your dreams tonight will be as sweet as mine._

#


	28. The Morning After the Morning After

Author's Note: I have already written a separate story about how Beverly and Jean-Luc become a couple, so this chapter and those that follow will (finally!) feature scenes from their developing life together. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard straightened his uniform and exited the bedroom, heading for the replicator and morning breakfast.

But as he crossed the threshold he stopped abruptly, breath stilling in his chest, arrested by the sight before him.

Beverly Crusher sat on the couch in the living area, already in uniform, her long legs folded comfortably beneath her, fiery auburn hair cascading down over her shoulders as she focused on the padd she was reading. Although her back was to him she looked like she belonged there and he was certain he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

Jean-Luc leaned against the doorframe as his thoughts drifted back to the previous night, and the night before that.

For a long while after she'd fallen asleep both nights he remained awake, savoring the feel of her body spooned against his, cataloging the touch, the taste, the scent of her as she lay in his arms. Already their newfound intimacy had become so precious to him – more precious than almost anything else in his life – that thinking about it took his breath away.

There was so much he wanted to share with her – everything he was, everything he hoped to be. And to share anything of herself that she was willing to give. To celebrate her successes, commiserate with her sorrows, help bear her burdens. But even more than that, he was finding he wanted to spend the quiet moments with her. Those moments in between the joys and sorrows, the moments of simply being together that made up a life. Moments like this one –

"Jean-Luc, you're burning a hole in the back of my head," she said without moving a muscle, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

Her comment stirred him into languid motion.

"Good morning," he greeted her, rounding the couch and leaning down to kiss her firmly on the lips.

"Good morning to you, too," she purred, setting the padd aside and pulling him down to sit beside her. She kissed him again, lingeringly, feeling his warm lips caress her own. "Mmm, I could get used to this."

"As could I," he replied softly. At the moment there was nothing in the entire universe he wanted more than to have the opportunity.

She drew back and gathered his hands in hers. "Now, why are you looking so somber so early in the morning? I know it may be hard to get used to having someone else around," she said sympathetically. "If it is I can –"

He shook his head and lightly squeezed the fingers that held his. "No." He paused, gathering his thoughts. He added slowly, "I'm just still finding it a bit difficult to believe –"

"That we're great together in bed?" Now she grinned at him playfully. "I never had any doubt about that." About plenty of other things, she reflected, but never about that. Her grin turned wicked as she thought back over the events of the previous two nights. The very…satisfying… events. Making love with Jean-Luc Picard was every bit as special as she'd ever dreamed it would be.

He smiled a little, sharing the sentiment, then shook his head again. "That you're here. With me," he murmured almost shyly.

Finally having the opportunity to express his ardor for her through his mouth and hands and body was unutterably dear to him. But what he treasured even more was the simple fact of their togetherness. After so many years of silent, hopeless yearning, she was here with him at last.

Already he could imagine no other way of being.

"Being with you, here, like this," he stopped and swallowed thickly, "I feel…complete."

Beverly inexplicably felt the sting of tears against her eyelids. She curled her fingers around his and drew his hand in to rest against her chest, just over her heart. "I love you, Jean-Luc Picard," she said with quiet, fervent intensity. "I have for a long time. I'm sorry it took me so long to do something about it."

Immediately he shook his head, refusing her apology. His smile was soft and warm as he regarded her. "That doesn't matter. It only makes me appreciate what we have now all the more."

She breathed out a sigh, drawing his hand to her mouth and lightly kissing the tips of his fingers. "Thank you. I just feel like I wasted so much time."

His hand tightened on hers. "No, Beverly. I've always understood that you felt conflicted over our relationship, and that you didn't want me to rush you."

"But I never asked how you felt, what you wanted."

He drew back to gaze into her eyes. "I want what I've always wanted," he said simply. His wonderful deep voice, low and rough with emotion, resonated right through her body. "You. However much of yourself you're willing to share."

Beverly found she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. How had she never noticed that his irises were gold-flecked green, like a star system in miniature, or the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled into hers? How could she have spent so long pushing away this man who loved her with everything that was in him and asked for so little in return? "Everything," she whispered, her voice firm, unwavering. Certain.

She had always known it would be this way. That a relationship with Jean-Luc would be one in which she could hold nothing back. Not because he demanded it, but because once the walls she'd so carefully erected between them came down she would want to show him everything, every part of herself, the good and the bad, secure in the knowledge that he would see her clearly and unhesitatingly accept her – with all her faults and flaws – just as she was.

"I feel the same," Jean-Luc whispered in reply. Her response was more than he'd dared hope for, yet all that he secretly desired. His eyes slid closed as a feeling of profound contentment welled up within him. No one – except possibly for Q – could know what the future would hold. All he knew for certain was that he and Beverly would cherish every single moment of it. Together.

#


	29. The Blessing

Author's Note: I can't believe it's been a full year since I published the first chapter of this story. I never imagined it would take on such a life of its own. Thanks for following along – there are still a few more scenes to come!

* * *

Beverly met him in the transporter room, amazed and grateful at the coincidence that her son was actually on Dorvan V just as the _Enterprise_ made a return visit to the system.

They'd been apart for nearly a year, during which she'd only had contact with him a few times. Enough to know that despite her fears about losing him to another plane of existence, he'd mostly been planet-side and had spent the majority of his time studying with Lakanta and the other colonists. Still, there had been plenty of changes for her to assimilate, and so she was infinitely relieved to discover that as he stepped off the dais and they began to catch up he looked and sounded just the same.

That reassurance allowed to finally her to turn her attention to informing _him_ about a big change in her own life.

"Have dinner with me tonight," she offered as they finally left the transporter room and headed for the turbolift. _With us_, she appended mentally, but kept that thought to herself for now. "You do still eat," she added, only half-jokingly.

Wesley flashed her an indulgent smile. "Yes, mom, I still eat. I'd love to have dinner with you," he added.

"Good."

They exited the turbolift onto deck 12 and started down the corridor toward the officers' quarters. _Well, I guess I can't put it off any longer._ Beverly took her son's arm as they walked. "Wesley, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

He hesitated fractionally in his stride. "Ok."

"There's been a big change in my life since the last time I saw you."

This time he stopped, turning to her anxiously. "Is everything ok?"

Beverly gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything's fine. In fact, it's better than it's been in a very long time."

She nudged them into motion again, moving only a few more meters down the corridor before coming to a halt once more. _This is the moment of reckoning_, she thought, the words melodramatic but appropriate considering the momentousness of what she was about to reveal. Her son's relationship with Jean-Luc had always been nearly as complicated as her own, and she worried that he might not be as enthusiastic about this recent turn of events as she was.

She was almost certain Wes would be fine with the news. Almost. And it was that little bit of uncertainty that was worrying her.

Still, there was only one way to find out. "Wes. You know that Jean-Luc and I have been friends for years," she began.

He nodded. "Of course. You've told me that before I was born, you and dad and the captain were pretty much inseparable. I thought that was why you wanted to come to the _Enterprise _in the first place."

"Yes, that's right." She hesitated, not sure how best to proceed, and then continued, "Well, over the past few weeks we've become much more than just friends."

He stared. "More? How much more?"

Beverly looked away to avoid her son's probing gaze. Wishing she knew for certain how he was going to react. Her stomach churned at the mere thought that he might not approve, might hate the idea she was in a relationship with her current and his former commanding officer. Or worse, that he might feel she was somehow betraying his father's memory. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she wordlessly nodded towards the door they stood outside.

Wesley's eyes followed hers, then widened when he realized where they were – who's quarters they were currently standing before. "Wow! You mean you and the captain have finally gotten together? Really?"

His mother frowned. "What do you mean, finally?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mom, everyone knows that Captain Picard has a thing for you. And I could always tell you had a thing for him, too."

Beverly stared at her son. _Out of the mouths of babes_, she thought. She did indeed always have a 'thing' for Jean-Luc, she reflected, although it had taken her the better part of a decade to finally do something about it. But the idea that everyone knew the Captain was interested in her? As unlikely as it seemed the thought was nonetheless intriguing. She'd have to ask him about it, some other time –

"So are you?"

She tried to gather her scattered wits. "Are we what?"

"Are you two really together?"

She took a step forward and grinned as the door automatically opened for her. "Well," she said over her shoulder as she led them inside, "let's just say that lately I've mostly been using my quarters for storage."

She waited as Wesley stood for a moment gazing around the room. Watched as he took note of the plants on the side tables and Nana's afghan carefully draped over the back of the couch. Smiled as the expression on his face changed from astonished – dazed even – to warm and pleased.

He reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "Mom. You're happy?"

She nodded. Trying to explain just how happy she was at finally becoming Jean-Luc's partner in every sense of the word would be like trying to explain just how big the Gamma Quadrant was. Knowing there was no way to possibly put all the joy and delight she was feeling about their newfound intimacy into words, she settled for, "Happier than I've been since your father died."

Wesley's answering smile was broad and unrestrained. "Good." He looked down for a moment, then back up at her with a contemplative expression on his face. "I'm glad it's Captain Picard. If there's one man in the universe besides Dad who deserves you, it's him."

#


	30. Someone to Hold

Jean-Luc Picard stood at the dining table in his quarters, starting sightlessly down at the empty plates and untouched place settings, feeling more torn than he'd ever felt before in his life.

His CMO, Dr. Beverly Crusher, had just lost a patient.

The _Enterprise_ had been summoned to the Targas cluster, where Professor Kalied and his team of researchers from Luna University were setting up a massive receptor array to detect putative subspace transmissions coming from the Delta Quadrant. Unfortunately one of the power generators had malfunctioned, causing an explosion that ripped a hole in one end of the array. The two technicians working in the area had lost their lives instantly, while two of the scientists had been left in critical condition. Dr. T'luvan was currently in stasis but expected to recover.

Dr. Vuldor hadn't been so lucky.

It was hardly the first time one of Beverly's patients had died, and was sadly but certainly not going to be the last, but as her long-time CO Jean-Luc was keenly aware of how hard she took each and every loss…

Her report had arrived at his terminal at shortly after 1700: a terse statement that her patient, Dr. Vuldor of the Kalied Expedition, had died of wounds sustained in the explosion that had disabled the receptor array. Beverly had been in surgery with him for more than ten hours, according to Alyssa Ogawa.

Nurse Ogawa had been his secret informant for years, quietly keeping him abreast of reactions in sickbay whenever a patient died. Some deaths were always harder on the medical personnel than others, and it was important that the ship's captain be aware of the needs of any of his crew for the services of Counselor Troi, or even for a sympathetic word from himself.

It was an unspoken agreement between he and Alyssa that she also quietly kept him abreast of _Beverly_'s reactions.

So once he learned that Beverly had left sickbay without a word immediately after calling time of death and submitting her report, he could deduce from nearly eight years of past experience that she'd most likely gone directly to her quarters to shower and change out of her uniform before heading to the holodeck. That was where she was now. According to the ship's computer she had been there for nearly three hours.

It was there that she tried to work through her frustration and grief by dancing, she'd once told him when he'd summoned sufficient courage to ask.

Working through her frustration and grief _alone_, Jean-Luc thought as he reached out to touch an empty wine glass. Despite the fact that for several weeks now she'd had a lover, a partner, one who fervently wished that she would rely on him to share the bad times with her as well as the good.

But they were as well-matched in that way as in so many others – both adept at hiding their suffering and soldiering on alone.

Jean-Luc sighed. The longer he considered it, the more convinced he felt that he should go to her. The thought of her rejecting his offer of comfort hurt far less than the thought that she might suffer needlessly even for a moment if he failed to proffer it.

And yet…at the same time he was keenly, painfully aware that her private ritual of grieving was not his to share. By not coming to him, or asking that he accompany her, she had not yet invited him to share it. He wholeheartedly hoped that one day she would.

But until then, was it fair to search her out and intrude on her grief just to ease his own distress? Or would she feel it _was_ an intrusion?

He sighed again heavily and shook his head. No, he must not invade her privacy. She knew where he was – she would come to him if she wanted his comfort.

And if she didn't, it should change nothing between them. Her life was her own. The fact they were lovers now didn't make that any less true.

But he hoped more than anything that she would come.

His head rose as the door behind him hissed open.

Turning, he saw her framed in the doorway, wearing a loose, free-flowing sundress, a workout towel wrapped around her neck and her hair pulled back in an untidy ponytail.

Jean-Luc's heart lifted at once to see her there. Rather than returning to her quarters she _had_ come to him, after all. He offered her a gentle smile as she slowly entered the room. Dropping the towel she came straight towards him, and as she approached he could see the haunted look in her eyes, and the brush of freckles across her cheeks standing out starkly against the paleness of her skin.

She glanced down, her steps faltering as she caught sight of the empty plates and glasses on the table beside him.

"Beverly?" he queried, his voice soft. Yes, they had missed dinner by hours, but that was the furthest thing from his mind now. All that mattered was that she was here.

The corners of her lips lifted in the outlines of a faint, fragile smile that tore his heart in two. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice low and raw. "It's just that I've been alone for so long…"

Suppressing a groan of bone-deep sadness at the thought – and at the thought that she should be apologizing for it – he took a step forward and silently extended his arms.

She leaned in and let him draw her to him, his arms sliding up and around her shoulders. He felt her tremble slightly and then relax against his frame. After a moment her arms wrapped around his waist. He heard her breathe out a small sigh and slid a soothing hand up along the back of her neck and into her hair, pressing her nearer, content just to hold her all night if necessary.

Throughout his entire life he'd never met anyone stronger than Beverly Howard Crusher. But as strong as she was, there were times when everyone just needed someone to hold them.

#


	31. Fatal Distraction

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sank down on the sofa in his quarters with glass of white wine in hand. "Computer, initiate log entry," he commanded to the terminal that sat on the corner of his desk a few feet away. "Captain's log, stardate 48907.8. At – "

"I thought you were finished for the evening," a voice called from the bedroom.

"Computer, pause," Jean-Luc said. Raising his voice to carry across the room he replied, "I'm just finishing my last report and then I'll join you."

There was no answer.

"Computer, resume," the captain instructed. "At 1750 hours today we completed our radio-spectrographic survey of the four planets within the solar system orbiting Exterra. Long range scans taken by the _USS Einstein_ last year had indicated the possible presence of heavy atomic weight signatures of buradiom, which warranted further study."

As he paused to take a sip of wine Beverly Crusher strolled from the bedroom and sat down next to him, their knees touching. She was dressed in a loose green robe that complemented her skin tone and set off the fire of her flaming auburn hair. Slipping the glass from his hand she took a swallow and then set it down on the table. A smile danced in her sparkling blue eyes.

Jean-Luc returned her smile warmly as he continued his report, gamely trying to ignore the distraction of her presence as she leaned towards him. The warm, lingering kiss to the back of his left hand sent sparks shooting through his abdomen.

"However, our analyses were unable to detect more than trace amounts of buradiom particles within the Exterra system, either on the surface of the planets or within the interplanetary space. Therefore I am going to recommend –" he broke off as Beverly brushed her lips across each one of his knuckles in turn. "To recommend –"

Another kiss, this time to the thin web of skin between thumb and forefinger.

"That, uh…"

She slid his index finger into her mouth. "To, um…Beverly," he chided, his voice suddenly low and much huskier than it had been a moment before.

Her eyebrows rose in studied nonchalance. "Mmm?" she murmured innocently around his finger without releasing her hold.

He bit back a moan at the unexpectedly erotic feel of her tongue sliding over his sensitive fingertip. Held out for a few more heartbeats and then finally turned to face his tormentor. "You're incorrigible," he managed.

Even the slow shake of her head, without taking her eyes from his, was sensual and provocative to the beleaguered captain. "No," she replied throatily as she let his finger slide from her mouth and rubbed her palm lightly over his, "Just happy."

He sighed, feigning a reluctance that he knew didn't fool her for an instant. "Computer, pause entry."

He turned towards his lover and used his free hand to brush back the soft fine hairs that framed her face. Slowly and with exquisite tenderness he settled his palm against her cheek and began to caress the soft skin around her mouth. He took his time parting her full red lips with the pad of his thumb.

With a growl of impatience Beverly let go of his hand and pulled him towards her into a kiss, then pressed him backward onto the cushions to more fully claim his mouth. Her lips lifted from his long enough to softly add, "Very happy."

The log entry remained unfinished until morning.

#


	32. One in Ten Million

She heard them even before she saw them. The loud, strident tones of none other than Deanna's mother, Lwaxana Troi, out in the corridor, complaining about something Beverly couldn't make out – followed a moment later by the soothing rumble of Jean-Luc's unmistakably resonant baritone.

_So, she's arrived then. Sorry, Deanna_, Beverly mentally sent to her friend, then sighed and stood up from her desk as Captain Picard ushered his guest into sickbay.

Mrs. Troi was instantly recognizable in a long, shimmering gown of royal blue, which contrasted sharply with the muted grey of Jean-Luc's uniform. She was cradling her left arm protectively across her torso – apparently the source of the consternation – and leaning heavily against her companion. Her other arm, Beverly couldn't help noticing, was wrapped smugly around the captain's waist – possibly contributing to the obvious stiffness in his demeanor.

At that instant Jean-Luc's eyes met Beverly's and a frisson of pleasure swept through her. He had been off the ship for nearly a week, attending a conference of Federation and Betazed diplomats on Ferred VII, and just the sight of him swelled her heart like a lovesick schoolgirl.

She hoped it never stopped doing that.

"Doctor Crusher, you must help me!" Lwaxana demanded as Beverly came towards them, tricorder in hand. She thrust out her wounded arm and drew up the sleeve to reveal a cluster of angry red puncture marks just above her wrist. "We'd only just left the outdoor reception and were on our way to the transporter area when this _thing_ just flew out of nowhere and bit me!"

"A bat-like creature called a Timellian redwing," Jean-Luc supplied to Beverly as she ran her tricorder over the injury. "We've been assured that it's not poisonous to Betazed physiology."

"It certainly hurts!" Lwaxana snapped.

"Don't worry," Beverly said in her most soothing bedside manner, picking up a hypospray and injecting a local anesthetic and painkiller into the woman's arm with a practiced touch. "We'll have you fixed up in no time, Mrs. Troi."

She walked Lwaxana and her reluctant escort towards an empty biobed and motioned to the Betazed woman. "Please sit," she invited as she busied herself with a tissue regenerator. "This should only take a few moments."

Lwaxana perched on the edge of the biobed and, finally releasing her hold on Picard, carefully pulled the long sleeve of her gown up as Beverly began to run the machine over the torn skin on her forearm. "Thank you, my dear." She turned to Jean-Luc. "I knew I could count on you."

Beverly noted the bright, admiring gaze that Lwaxana fixed on the uncomfortable man standing at her side and bit back a sardonic smile. Mrs. Troi never changed. She was still beautiful, still imperious, and still throwing herself at the first available handsome, sexy man. Or just the first available man.

Only Jean-Luc wasn't available, she reflected with a hint of smugness. Not any more.

Dark, penetrating eyes met hers as Mrs. Troi looked up from watching the progress of the tissue regenerator across her wrist, and Beverly was suddenly reminded why being in the presence of a true telepath was like walking naked in public. All her innermost thoughts and secrets were on full display to the Betazed matriarch.

Yet at the moment she found she didn't mind. She loved Jean-Luc with every fiber of her being, and she didn't care who knew it. And she had no doubt that he felt the same way about her.

And unexpectedly, instead of showing affront or anger at the earlier uncharitable thoughts that had been running through Beverly's mind, Lwaxana's expression was soft – even kind. "Well, I see," she said with a knowing nod. "He's yours now, is he?"

The question was clearly rhetorical. Which was just as well, because Beverly wasn't quite sure how to respond. She felt a blush rising over the collar of her uniform. Her personal life – and that of the Captain – was something she still rarely felt comfortable talking about in public. And definitely not here in the middle of her workplace.

"Oh, no need to be embarrassed," the older woman told her, her voice sounding unnecessarily loud to the doctor. She wasn't as keen to attract attention to the subject as the telepath seemed to be. "Anyone with half a brain can tell the two of you are besotted with each other."

Beverly felt her jaw drop in surprise, and saw Jean-Luc stiffen beside her. Fortunately, a quick glance around the room told her that the other members of her staff were currently busy with their own patients and, hopefully, were out of earshot anyway.

Lwaxana's shrewd obsidian eyes gazed at them benevolently. "And you have nothing to worry about, you two," she added apropos of nothing. "Not one couple in ten thousand loves each other the way you do."

Beverly risked a furtive glance at Jean-Luc, who judging by the look on his face seemed just as stunned as she was by the comment.

Before either could reply Lwaxana rubbed her fingers briskly over her newly healed arm and inquired, "Are we finished, my dears? I feel positively as good as new."

Beverly nodded and reached out blindly to lay her equipment on the table beside her.

Lwaxana patted her cheek and stood. "Thank you, darling," she said. "And you, my gallant Captain," she added to Jean-Luc. Her eyes slid back to Beverly's as she grinned an impish grin. "Or should I say, Doctor Crusher's gallant Captain."

Jean-Luc's strangled-sounding cough was the only sound as Mrs. Troi sailed across the room towards the door.

"I only hope you'll be a good example for my daughter," the Betazed woman added as she paused in the doorway and looked back at them over her shoulder. "I do so wish she'd get together with that handsome young Commander. Or that tall, ever so distinguished Klingon. One or the other." Her eyes lit. "Or both."

She airily waved a hand at the pair. "I'll see the two of you later. Ta ta."

Beverly stood motionless in bemusement until the sickbay door slid closed behind the telepath. Then she slowly blinked and turned to stare at Jean-Luc, feeling a bit like she'd just been caught in the path of a benign yet extremely perceptive hurricane.

"Not one couple in ten thousand," Beverly murmured at last. It felt oddly like a benediction of sorts.

"Not one in ten million," Jean-Luc replied firmly.

He said it with such fervor, such heartfelt conviction, that Beverly nearly forgot her resolve to be professional with him in public at all times and kissed him senseless then and there.

#


	33. What's in a Name

Beverly strode wearily into the captain's quarters on the _Enterprise_ and leaned against the wall with a sigh.

Jean-Luc looked up from the padd he was reading and stood to greet her. "Good evening," his rich baritone voice was low and warm. "How was your talk with Deanna?"

Beverly sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Exasperating. It's still two months before the wedding and she already wants to know every detail. Everything from the color of the flowers to what name I'm going to take."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "And?"

She knew he wasn't asking about the color of the flowers. "And…" she looked down, toying with her uniform sleeve and wishing she hadn't brought up the subject. She'd been avoiding this conversation with him. It was likely to be a difficult one.

But it needed to be done.

She drew close to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I would be honored to take your name, Jean-Luc," she said with deep sincerity, "But…I've decided to keep mine the way it is." She met his eyes firmly, steeling herself for an argument. She knew that, despite the difficult relationship he'd had with his brother, his ties to family ran deep. And the Picard name had been a source of pride in his ancestors for generations.

But his face was devoid of emotion. "I see," was all he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Beverly knew that look, that tone. It almost always meant he was concealing deeper feelings that he was loath to admit. "It's not because of Jack," she hastened to add, her fingers tightening on Jean-Luc's arm. She didn't want him for one instant to think that she wanted to keep her dead husband's name rather than take his own. That wasn't the issue at all. Rather it was that all her accomplishments, everything she'd achieved over the past quarter century as a physician and medical researcher, was associated with her current surname. "It's just –"

"That Dr. Beverly Crusher is the name with which you've built your professional reputation," he finished for her.

"Yes," she nodded, gazing at him in relief that he'd so readily understood her position. She really should have learned by now to never, ever underestimate this man. But she needed to know for certain that he truly accepted her wishes and wasn't simply putting her feelings before his own, as he was so often prone to do. "You really don't mind?"

He gave a slight, Gallic shrug. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," he quoted, his hazel eyes smiling into hers.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc," she breathed.

"You're welcome, Dr. Crusher," he replied, then drew her into his arms and kissed her with a passion that had her wishing her wedding day would come much, much sooner.

#


	34. Babes in Arms

The lighting in the captain's private section of sickbay was muted.

This was normally the region of her domain that Beverly Crusher least enjoyed spending time in, because it meant that Jean-Luc was either seriously injured or ill.

But this time things were different.

In fact, as of last night _everything_ was different.

She had never dreamed she would be a mother again after all these years.

Exhaling a tired yet contented sigh she lay back comfortably on the biobed as Nurse Ogawa completed her scans and carefully delivered the small, sleeping bundle into her father's arms. Jean-Luc nodded his thanks as she quietly left the room, leaving the two of them – the three of them – alone.

Jean-Luc carried his newborn daughter back to Beverly's bedside. Despite the hush in the air and the earliness of the hour the motion seemed to arouse the snoozing tot. Her bright hazel eyes opened and she began to fret, her stubby pink fingers balling into tiny, flailing fists.

All of Beverly's maternal instincts seemed to awaken from their long dormancy at once. She reached out to take Felisa in her arms, aware that her husband was very new to fatherhood and, while the most competent person she knew in every other aspect of life, utterly inexperienced with fussing babies.

But Jean-Luc was already re-positioning the little bundle into the crook of his left arm. He settled Felisa's head against the warmth of his shoulder and gently eased her arms against her sides, rearranging the blankets to cover them. Within a few seconds she gave a wide yawn and her eyes slid closed.

"You did that very expertly," she commended him, slightly surprised as his adeptness with his tiny daughter.

He smiled down at the now sleeping infant. "I've been practicing."

_Practicing? _she wondered._ How?_ She cocked an enquiring eyebrow in his direction.

"On the holodeck," he clarified, settling little Felisa more comfortably against the broad muscles of his chest.

Beverly stared up at him, half amused and half horrified. It was entirely like Jean-Luc to have gone and actually practiced holding a baby. But at the same time, if he thought a virtual baby was in any way the same as a real one –

Jean-Luc smiled back, a bit smugly. "Actually Ensign Williams from Engineering has been kind enough to let me hold young Malcolm."

_Ah_. The baby boy that she and Alyssa had delivered just over three weeks ago. Beverly smiled up at him, mollified and even secretly impressed. _Not that I'm going to tell him that_. Instead she said, "You're just full of surprises."

He glanced down at the sleeping bundle in his arms, then back to his wife. "So are you."

Beverly reached up to touch his arm. "We, Jean-Luc," she corrected. "This was definitely a two-person job."

His lips quirked upward. "Yes, I suppose it was." His gaze once again shifted back to his infant daughter, and as it did so to Beverly's surprise his expression sobered and the smile left his lips.

"Jean-Luc?" she queried softly, wondering at the pensiveness of his look. She hoped he wasn't having second thoughts. _It's a little late for those now_.

For a long moment he was silent. "I never imagined this day would come," he admitted at last, his eyes still on his daughter's face. Then his head rose and his gaze met Beverly's. "And I never dreamed it would mean so much."

Now it was easy to see the wonder in his eyes, the amazement and the joy, and her heart soared with happiness. She loved seeing him this way – the curious adventurer, the gentle lover, the proud husband, and now the delighted, doting father, all rolled into one. And to know – well, she knew, but to hear him say it aloud – that having a child together was so important to him seemed to lift her entire spirit, filling it with warmth and light. In this moment she felt more connected to him and their newborn child than she'd ever been to anyone before.

_He's going to be such a wonderful parent._

Jean-Luc looked down at his daughter again, continuing in a quiet, reflective voice, "When I think of it…" He trailed off and shook his head in amazement. "There's a piece of each of us – and our families, our whole genetic history – right here." He patted the bundle he held against his chest with such tenderness that for a moment Beverly felt her eyes film with tears.

"And although my family in France is…gone…" His voice stumbled for a moment, and then continued on more strongly, "I have a new family now, here, with you."

Beverly reached up to capture his free hand in hers. She squeezed gently. "We both do, Jean-Luc. And who knows what else the future might bring? The possibilities are endless." _We're both going to be wonderful parents. I can't wait._

He nodded, returning her warm, loving smile. "Yes, they certainly are."

* * *

Author's Note: There you go: short but sweet, and, I think, a good note on which to end the series. Thank you all for reading, and special gratitude to those of you who took the time to leave reviews! I appreciate you taking this journey with me.

"In every child who is born, under no matter what circumstances, and of no matter what parents, the potentiality of the human race is born again." James Agee

The End


End file.
